Bleedingheart Drachman
by chibichernikova
Summary: Karla Chernikova is a girl with mixed heritage. She enlists in the military to bring her father back into Amestris, but life is a harsh occupation, with lost ideals and a jaded reality. Rated M for risky content. Mutual BuccaneerxOC later.
1. Prologue: Deportation

_((AN: Welcome to my very first Fullmetal Alchemist fanfic! I've loved FMA for years, but I never actually sat down and wrote a fanfic for it... until now. It's basically from the point of view of my OC, and it's pretty much just her story. Currently, I have no idea if she'll run into any other lead characters minus the soldiers at Briggs, but that's a semi-spoiler, so I'll shut up now... XD If you like this, or even if you didn't, please review. :) Enjoy!))_

Prologue: Deportation

It was a peaceful night in Virnikov. The fourteen-year-old was asleep in her bed, her parents in the next room. It was quiet, just as always.

Suddenly, a powerful knock sounded at the door. The red-haired, pale-skinned man looked over to his wife, whose blue eyes looked nervously back. They both knew one thing: They'd come. He hadn't completed his citizenship application on time; he hadn't been able to get down to Central to turn it in. His family was poor; they just couldn't afford the trip... but there had been no leniency. Now, they were here to reclaim him.

The door slammed open with a crash that shook the house, and the girl shot up in her bed, awakened. As voices yelled, she crept to her door, peering out into the hallway just in time to see tall men in blue uniforms charge into her parents' room. She snuck over to the doorway to see two of them grab her father by his arms and hold him, while one read off a sheet of paper he held.

"Ivan Chernikov," the soldier read. "By order of the Fuhrer, you are being deported back to your native country of Drachma for failing to complete the Amestrian citizenship in the allotted time. You are never to set foot in the country of Amestris again, lest you be put to death."

"What about my family?" her father cried. "What will you do with them? My wife... My daughter..."

"Liesel Chernikova is a full, native Amestrian citizen," the soldier replied, his voice stern. "Karla Chernikova may be of your Drachman blood, but since she is also of Liesel's Amestrian blood and was born in Amestris, she is a legal Amestrian as well. Therefore, both your wife and daughter will remain freely in the country without penalty."

Without hearing a word from Ivan, or perhaps ignoring him, the soldiers ushered him out of the room, pushing past Karla, his daughter. The officer who had read his fate exited then, meeting her vivid green eyes with his own dark blue. She glared up at him without a word. After a moment, his eyes narrowed, and he left the house, slamming the door behind him.

Karla's mother rushed out then, drawing the girl into her embrace. Though both were silent, Karla knew her mother was crying from her trembling body. Karla, however, wasn't crying. She felt no tears spring to her eyes or sadness ripping at her heart. What she did feel was pure anger. How dare they rip her father from her? She didn't care if it was the law or by the Fuhrer's orders. They'd just torn her family apart, no hesitation or questions asked. She knew they were heartless. She knew they'd regret their decision one day. She'd make sure of it.


	2. Chapter 1: The Journey to Central

_A/N: Hello everyone, and welcome to chapter 1 of Bleedingheart Drachman! I already have reviews on the prologue; thank you so much to those who reviewed. :3 This only got put up so quickly because I was more than midway through it when I decided to just put the whole story up on here. I hope you enjoy this, and even if you don't, please leave a review. Thanks for reading!_

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><p>Chapter 1: The Journey to Central<p>

Karla Chernikova sat at the train station. Against her mother's wishes, she was traveling to Central City, intent on joining the military as a state alchemist. She was seventeen, and she considered herself a bit of a prodigy. She'd developed her own style of alchemy when she was fifteen, and it involved the use of her own blood. Her alchemy was quite risky to use, she'd realized; if she used too much of her blood she ran the risk of passing out or even dying. She'd had a couple of close calls when she was first practicing it, but she figured after two years she mostly knew what she could handle now. Her mother strongly disapproved of alchemy, saying that Karla's form was self-destructive, and besides, she didn't want her daughter involving herself in that destruction. She disapproved even more of Karla's desire to join the military. Liesel Chernikova's viewpoint was the military was filled with nothing but corrupt, evil individuals, and if Karla joined, she'd become exactly like them. The girl had promised her mother she was both stronger and smarter than to let that happen, and the woman had reluctantly let her go.

The sound of the train lifted her from her thoughts then, and she stood and stretched as the conductor called, "This train is now departing for Central Station!" She picked up her suitcase, clutching her ticket in her hand as she headed towards the train to board. The conductor looked her over as she held out her ticket for him, his dark eyes lingering longest on her red hair. Fixing her with a rather dirty look, he took her ticket after a moment, moving out of the way of the front of the entrance so she could board. She impatiently picked up her bag and climbed on the train, ignoring the staring guard as she arrived in an empty compartment.

"Damn staring people," she muttered. It wasn't her damn fault she'd inherited her father's Drachman traits. It hadn't been her choice that the Amestrian traits weren't as strong in her as they probably should have been! She rolled her eyes and looked out the window as the train began to depart. She'd learned at a young age not to let people's attitudes towards her affect her strongly, especially if it was over something she couldn't control. Sure, she could muse and rant about it in her head all she wanted, but that wasn't ever really going to change people's opinions of her.

She stared out the window at the rushing scenery. She truly didn't know how long it would be until she arrived in Central; she figured she'd ask someone if anyone actually bothered to come in the compartment she was sitting in. She pulled her hair back into a low ponytail and pulled the hood of the black coat she wore over her head. Maybe if she just stayed like this, nobody would notice or think to ask...

Suddenly, the compartment door slid open, and a woman entered with a little girl. She figured that they must be a mother with her child. The two of them sat in the seat across from her, and the woman lifted the girl onto her lap. Karla's eyes slid over to look at them; the mother was blonde but the child was brunette. The girl looked about five, and she suddenly met Karla's eyes with her own, wide and green.

"Hello," the woman said. Her tone was friendly, and Karla turned her head fully to look at her. "Are you off to Central as well? You look a bit young to be traveling alone..."

"Yes," Karla replied politely. "I'm seventeen. I'm going to enlist in the military." That was probably more information than the woman needed to know, but she figured she'd end up being asked anyway. Might as well get it out of the way before the question actually arose.

"The military..." The woman's face grew distant, and then she blinked and appeared to return to herself. "You must have an important goal, don't you? You don't seem like you would just jump into the military for laughs. Not at your age..."

"I do indeed," Karla said, looking out the window again. She did have a goal; the woman had gotten that right. Ever since her father had been forced out of the country, everything she did was aiming towards getting him back in. She wasn't sure if her being in the military as a state alchemist would contribute towards that; that is, if she even made it in, but she was still willing to do it. As a plus, she'd be serving her country, and nobody would be able to question her loyalty to Amestris again.

"Well, that's good," the woman said. "I won't ask what it is; it must be something you must want to keep quiet if you haven't spoken about it freely."

"It is," the girl confirmed. "How long is the train to Central, do you know?"

"Three days. It's a rather long distance from here... Haven't you ever been to Central before?"

Karla shook her head. "No. My family is rather poor; we've never had the money to be able to go anywhere. I only managed to get the ticket because I've worked a lot to raise the money to go."

"Very noble of you," the woman said. "It's a large place, very populated... It's quite different from here." She smiled. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Karla Chernikova." She inclined her head, a gesture that she'd learned from her father that in Drachman culture was a sign of respect. "And yours?"

"Sarah. Sarah Charleswick. This is my daughter, Kyla." She indicated the girl next to her, who was now asleep with her head on her mother's lap. "Chernikova... That's an interesting last name. Is it Amestrian?"

Karla shook her head. "No. It's... of another origin." She didn't want to confess its true origin, as she didn't want to chase the woman off. Sarah seemed to actually be a decent person, incredibly, towards her. Maybe it was just because of the fact Karla had her hood up to hide her hair...

Sarah nodded. "Well, Karla, it's a pleasure to meet you. Please do tell me, what do you intend to become in the military? I imagine a fine girl like you has high aspirations."

"I plan on becoming a state alchemist," Karla replied. "I'm rather skilled in alchemy, if I do say so myself, and I want to actually do something with it."

"Alchemy, really?" Sarah asked. "Interesting, for someone so young. There is someone younger than you, though. He's famous for being the youngest state alchemist ever... the Fullmetal Alchemist."

"Fullmetal, hm?" She looked out the window again, watching the sun cast shadows over the rushing fields. "Interesting name. I wonder if I'll ever encounter him. Probably not, though. He must be good if he's the youngest state alchemist ever."

"I've heard he is." Sarah smiled. "My husband is in the military as well, but he's not an alchemist. He doesn't believe in the stuff at all; says it's all just magic. He's just a regular soldier, and I... well, I've learned not to question him." She shrugged, and Karla looked over at her again. Was it possible she saw something like regret or sadness in the woman's eyes?

"He isn't bad, is he?"

"Oh, no! Of course not!" Sarah's response was rapid, almost too quick to be natural. Karla cocked an eyebrow at her. It seemed as if the woman was hiding something... "No, he's, he's... he's a decent man. I love him."

"Well, that's good," said Karla, hiding her suspicions. "That's important, I suppose." Sarah smiled.

"You still have a lot to learn about love, don't you?" she asked. "Ah well, you're only young, you have plenty of time to still learn about it."

Karla smiled. She found talk about love to be rather boring, to be honest. It wasn't that she didn't believe in it; it was just that she figured she had more important things to focus on than just who to date and who to marry and matters like that. She also found that she rather liked this woman, Sarah Charleswick. She actually seemed honestly friendly and quite intelligent, just Karla's type for company on a long journey like this.

She stood suddenly, and at Sarah's inquiring look she said, "I'm going to go pick up a meal; I'm hungry." She moved past the woman and her sleeping child and headed out of the compartment into the hallway.

As she walked, she became aware of a large presence behind her. Her hand subtly slipped into her pocket and gripped the handle of her knife, for she sensed that this wasn't a benevolent presence. However, she didn't look behind her, instead continuing on her way to hopefully deceive whatever it was into thinking she didn't notice it. She suddenly turned sharply into an empty compartment and whirled around as the presence leapt in behind her, revealing itself to be a tall, burly man. He was clad in black, with a gun strapped to his inner thigh and a mask across his eyes. He was much taller than Karla, and he was more muscled than any other man she'd ever seen.

"What do you want?" she demanded, keeping her grip on her knife tight in her pocket. "Why are you following me?"

"I know what you are, Drachman," the man said, coming toward her with heavy footsteps. "Your hood can't hide anything from me." He reached over and, before she could stop him, yanked her hood off her head so roughly that half the seams holding the hood to the coat popped. He leaned over and murmured in her ear, "You're coming with me."

"I don't think so," she said, instantly swinging her leg back and coming up to kick him in the crotch. He doubled over, letting go of her hood, and she fled out of the compartment. Racing down the hallway, she looked wildly around for someone in charge, to alert them to a potential hijacker, since to her the man did really look like one. She dashed into the meal car and approached the uniformed guard standing near the door to the engine car.

"What is it, miss?" the guard asked, his eyes widening at Karla's somewhat-dismantled state.

"I think there's a hijacker on board," she reported, gasping for breath. "I was just attacked by a man with a gun. I can lead you to him!"

The guard nodded, and Karla turned and left the room. He followed close behind her, and when they reached the compartment, they found it was empty. He turned to her with a stern look on his face.

"Are you playing games with me?" he demanded.

"No, I am not!" she exclaimed. "He was here! He's..." She looked around out in the hallway and saw him at the end, by the door. He glared at her, and she quickly brought out her knife again. Pulling up the sleeve of her right arm, she cut into her skin. As it bled, she drew a circle around the wound with her blood, then activated it. It glowed yellow, and she pointed her arm towards the man. Vines made of blood shot out of her arm at him, and as he moved to get away, they wrapped tightly around him, trapping him. Karla pocketed her knife and said, "He's there! I just trapped him."

Both she and the guard rushed over to him, and the guard pulled out a pair of handcuffs. He quickly handcuffed the man, who glared up at Karla in anger as she severed the vines from her arm with her hand and pressed it over her wound to stop the bleeding. "Filthy Drachman," he mouthed at her as the guard took him away. She glared back at him before continuing back to the dining car.

In a few minutes, she had eaten her food, and she had returned back to her compartment. Sarah looked up at her as she sat down. "That took a while," she observed. "Couldn't decide what you wanted?"

Karla contemplated telling her about the attack, but after a bit decided against it. "Yes," she said, smiling. "My hood caught on something and ripped, though..."

"You have beautiful hair," said Sarah. "Why did you hide it?"

Karla was a bit taken aback. Did the woman really not notice how Drachman she looked? "I wasn't hiding it," she lied. "I was protecting myself from the cold. I figure you realized how cold the North is."

"Oh, yes," Sarah agreed. "It is quite cold up here... I kept Kyla inside most of the time. She's rather weak and gets sick easily, so I didn't want her outside very much."

Karla looked at the sleeping girl. She did look rather frail, she noticed. What would a frail girl like her be doing in the harshness of Northern Amestris? She mentally shrugged. It wasn't her business, so she wouldn't ask.

Sarah had stopped talking, so Karla settled in and stared out the window once again. This was going to be one long journey.

The next two days passed without incident, and on the morning of the third day, the sound of the train whistle and the light of the sun shining in awoke Karla. Lifting her head, she saw that Sarah was already awake, shaking her daughter gently back to consciousness. The girl sat up and yawned, rubbing her eyes. "Mommy, where are we?" she asked.

"We're in Central, Kyla," Sarah answered, combing her fingers through the girl's hair. "Kyla, meet Mommy's new friend." She pointed at Karla. "This is Karla."

"Hello, Kyla," Karla said, smiling and inclining her head. "I'm coming to Central as well."

"Are you gonna be military?" Kyla asked, her eyes wide. Karla noticed they were the same shade of green as her own. "That's what Daddy is!"

"I am," the teenager confirmed. "I plan on becoming a state alchemist."

"Alchemist?" The girl grinned, her face shining the light of innocence. Karla remembered a time when her own face shone like that, back when she was too young to understand the prejudice of the world. "I wanna see! You can do alchemy, right? I wanna see!"

"Not right now, Kyla," Sarah scolded gently.

"The train has arrived at Central Station," a voice said over the loudspeaker. "Please leave the train; this is its last stop. Repeat: The train has arrived at Central Station."

At those words, Karla stood up, picking up her suitcase which had previously taken residence under her seat. She left the compartment without another word, and she was the first to leave the train.

She left the station and stood in the street. She set her suitcase down and took a moment to look around. She couldn't believe it. She was here.

This was Central City.


	3. Chapter 2: The Alchemy Exam

_((A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone :3 Welcome to chapter 2, where Karla officially takes the state alchemy exam. Since I don't exactly know how the whole thing goes, I kind of made some stuff up, but I tried to make it as accurate as I knew. I hope you all enjoy!))_

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><p>Chapter 2: The Alchemy Exam<p>

"Holy hell, this place is huge," Karla mumbled to herself, gazing at all the tall buildings in awe. She'd never been in a place so huge... Not even North City was this big!

A car horn suddenly sounded, and she jumped backwards out of the road just in time to see a small car drive past her. "Stay out of the road!" its driver yelled at her, speeding up to drive away. Karla rolled her eyes, starting to walk on the sidewalk instead. She needed to find Central Headquarters... Where in the world _was _it, though? All these buildings, all the crowded streets... Central City so far was large and slightly intimidating, and she figured that it wouldn't be long before she got completely and utterly lost.

"Great," she said as she walked. "How the hell am I supposed to find this place? There needs to be a map of this city or something..." She suddenly saw a boy, shorter than her, who looked as if he knew where he was going. He had long blond hair that was plaited into a braid down his back, and he wore a red coat that was quite bright. She rushed over to him without further thought.

"Excuse me," she said, tapping him on the shoulder.

"What?" he asked, turning around and looking up at her with vivid golden eyes. He had the most interesting coloring she'd ever seen, she noticed.

"Do you happen to know where Central Headquarters is?" she asked. "I've never been here before, and I don't want to get lost."

"Oh, yeah, sure," the boy said, turning away. "Follow me!"

He gestured with a gloved hand as he began walking, and Karla indeed followed him. "So, who're you?" he asked. "I've never seen you around here."

"Karla Chernikova," she answered. "I'm taking the state alchemy exam today."

"Ah," said the boy. "That thing was simple as pie. I had no trouble with it."

"You're a state alchemist?"

He turned and grinned at her, pulling a silver pocketwatch out of his pocket. "Yep!" he replied. "Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist. Nice to meet you!"

Her eyes widened slightly. _This _was the alchemist she'd been told about on the train? He was younger than she was! "You must be incredible," she commented.

He turned away and resumed walking, smiling. "I'm decent," he said. "So, you're an alchemist. What do you do?"

"Blood alchemy," she said. "I developed it myself."

"Interesting."

They continued walking, Edward guiding Karla through the maze of people and streets of the city. After a while, he stopped in front of a giant building, and she looked up to see the military insignia hanging down on two banners from the top.

"Is this it?"

"Yep. Have fun!" He left her side, waving as he departed.

Karla took a breath as she stood in front of Central Headquarters. She was here... she was going to do it. She climbed the steps to the doors, and she pushed them open and stepped inside.

There was really nothing in this room except for a desk against the wall, which she walked to. There was a woman in blue uniform working diligently at the desk, and she didn't look up until Karla automatically cleared her throat.

"May I help you?"

"I'm here to take the state alchemy exam," Karla said, her tone remaining faithful to her confident demeanor. Inside, she was rather nervous. She'd never done any of this before, she couldn't mess up, she couldn't risk getting rejected since she had no money to get back to Virnikov; she absolutely _had _to pass this and make it in.

The woman nodded, opening a drawer of the desk. "Last name?" she asked, thumbing through the folders within.

"Chernikova."

"Chernikova, Chernikova... Ah, here you are." She withdrew a folder and handed it to the girl. It was marked with Karla's name along with the words _Exam Applicant._ "Now, this folder contains your score sheet for the written exam, a chart for your physical, the questions for your interview, and your rating sheet for your display. You will take the written exam first, and you will hand this folder to the administrator, who will then pass it along to the rest of the officers. You will not get this back; after you are finished entirely, it will be submitted to the Fuhrer for review." Karla nodded in understanding, and the woman continued, "You're the only female applicant this year. You're also lucky, for this year the Fuhrer has elected to sit in on the physical demonstrations. He hasn't done that since the Fullmetal Alchemist's exam, which was about three years ago, I think."

"Impressive," Karla remarked. "Where do I go to do this?"

The woman moved from behind the desk and led Karla to a door over in the corner. "This is the exam room. You are the third and last person to arrive, but don't worry, you're not late. They will show you where to go afterward." Karla nodded, and the woman went back to her desk.

The girl took a breath, her hand resting on the doorknob, the folder clutched to her side. Well, this was it. It was now or never. From this point on, her fate lay in the hands of the military officials. She couldn't possibly back out now, and in her heart, she knew that. She turned the doorknob, opening the door and walking inside. _Well, here we go._

They had been allotted two and a half hours for the written portion of the exam, and when they were released, Karla breathed a sigh of relief. She'd always been a rather fast worker when it came to exams, and so she had been done within the first hour, but she'd been anxious since she'd handed it in. In the logical half of her mind, she knew she'd done well; she'd known nearly everything the questions had asked, so she had no reason to worry. The other half, well, was jumping around in fear and sheer terror that she'd failed, and that already she was going to have to find some way to get back to her hometown.

The woman at the desk had been right when she'd said Karla was the only female applicant. What she'd failed to mention was that she was also the youngest. The other two, since there were only three total, were both middle-aged men who already seemed to be overly confident of their own skills. She hadn't failed to notice them whispering to each other when they'd caught sight of her before the exam was administered, but once again, she'd ignored them like she had so many other times. They were probably more skilled at alchemy than she was, she thought. The two of them were more likely to receive the title of state alchemist, simply due to the fact that they'd probably been using it longer than she had.

She made her way to the medical side of headquarters, for she was supposed to have a physical done. This was sure to be fun... She hated seeing doctors; she always had. She never felt she needed to; even when she was sick there was always a remedy for whatever she had without having to go and see a doctor. Honestly, she found this whole having to give a physical completely pointless; what was the purpose behind it? To see if they were physically fit enough for their job? Well, it was stupid to do it now, since there was a chance that someone or even all of them wouldn't get in... It made more sense in Karla's mind to do it after the new state alchemists had been picked. Then again, she couldn't really do anything about it, so there really was no point in complaining about it, either.

She reached the office, and the doctor, a rather elderly man, looked up from notes he was reading. "Who are you?" he asked, staring at her.

"Karla Chernikova," the girl replied. "I'm an applicant to become a state alchemist. I'm here for my physical."

"Oh yes," he said, picking up a folder off his desk. He gestured to the table, and Karla sat on it. The examination took only a few minutes, as he measured her height and weight and her general health to make sure she wasn't sick. He wrote something on her chart, then proclaimed her healthy. She slid off the table and left the room in the direction he had pointed. Now to do the interview... oh boy. That was going to be fun.

The interview only lasted about thirty minutes. It had ended up being a psychological evaluation, to make sure they were all in their right mind to handle what they were applying for. She supposed the military couldn't handle weak-minded soldiers... oh well, good thing she wasn't one of that kind. Being raised up in the north had toughened her. She needed to be strong, both in mind and body, in order to deal with the almost constant invasions Drachma tried on her hometown. She remembered learning when she was younger that Virnikov, while currently an Amestrian town, was originally Drachman, and Amestris had annexed it from them when the country first began. Drachma hadn't liked that very much, obviously, and still even to this day one of the rival country's goals was to take it back as part of their own territory. Karla had seen their destruction of her town firsthand; they enjoyed tearing important buildings down to try and scare the citizens into becoming Drachman, and every time they were driven off, the town had to be rebuilt again.

She saw her fellow applicants standing in front of a door leading outside, and she hurried to join them. The two men looked down at her as she arrived between them, and their eyes were burning with disapproval. Karla knew what they were thinking. How could the good Amestrian military let a Drachman like her attempt to join as a state alchemist? She inclined her head at both of them, showing her respect for them. Despite their negative attitudes, they still deserved a sign of respect as her equals, and she was surprised when the younger of the two made the same gesture back at her.

"State alchemist applicants!" a voice suddenly spoke. "Please proceed outside for the physical demonstration!"

The three of them walked outside into a large, blocked off stadium. Karla looked to see a man with an eyepatch and black hair seated in the center of the podium of viewing that was on one far side, with two soldiers standing on either side of him. Her eyes widened. He must be none other than the Fuhrer...

A soldier came down then and gestured for the man on Karla's right to step into the middle, for he was going first. A different soldier ushered the other two into a shaded portion to observe until they were called forth.

Karla watched as the man began his demonstration. She immediately saw that his alchemic specialty was water, and that he was fairly decent at it. She watched as he transmuted an explosion of boiling water from nothing but the palm of his hand. _That's some basic stuff, _she thought. _He'd be able to make a weapon or something if he had any metal, but there is no metal in water... He's very limited on what he can do. _

A few minutes later, the man bowed, and the Fuhrer applauded as a soldier next to him wrote something on a clipboard. The man who had just finished was escorted out, and the man who had returned Karla's gesture of respect earlier was now chosen to demonstrate. She leaned back, crossing her arms. Now this would be interesting.

The man drew a transmutation circle in the dirt beneath him and put his hand to it. Sparks and lightning flew, and he transmuted a giant cannon straight from the earth. Karla brought her hand to her chin in contemplation. _Earth weapon transmutation. That's one of the most basic forms of alchemy, but if it's worked with enough, he could do so much with it... _

He transmuted a dome of earth around him, and he was hidden from sight for a moment before the dome burst away from him in an explosion. In its place stood a giant brown tank. Her eyes widened. _How in the world did he do that, _she thought? _There couldn't possibly be enough metal in the ground to make a tank that size... Then again, if he's using an amplifier of some sort... _

She didn't get much time to think on this, however, for the soldier then dismissed him since he was finished. As the man left, the soldier then gestured to her to come out. She walked into the open, squinting as the sunlight hit her, and made direct eye contact with the Fuhrer. He smiled at her and nodded, and she bowed her head, showing him the respect he deserved.

"Karla Chernikova," he said, the smile never leaving his face. "The mysterious half-Drachman. You may begin your exhibition."

"Thank you, sir," she said. She pulled her knife out of her pocket and pulled her right sleeve up, ignoring the gasps of the officers. Cutting into her arm, she bit her lip at the pain as blood spattered into the dirt. She scribbled a transmutation circle over the wound, then pressed her hand to it. The blood around the wound as well as inside formed into a dagger, and she pulled it straight out of her cut. She displayed it to the Fuhrer, then threw it at a wall. It landed in the hands of a standing soldier, where it immediately dissolved into blood. The soldier instantly jumped back as it did so, and Karla watched out of the corner of her eye and chuckled. She then pressed her hand to her wound again, and as she pulled back, dark crimson vines lifted out of her arm. She flung her arm to the side, and the vines wrapped around and grabbed a stick lying on the ground. As Karla brought her arm back, the vines followed, and the stick was hurled as she jabbed her arm forward, straight toward the Fuhrer. The soldiers ducked, and the Fuhrer calmly reached up and caught it in midair. The girl bit her lip. _Oops, _she thought. _That wasn't where that was supposed to go..._

She reached over and severed the vines from her arm. Once they separated, the vines turned back into blood, and it spattered all over the ground, leaving a trail from her to where the Fuhrer was observing. Her arm continued to bleed, and she pressed on it with her hand to make it stop. She was done with her demonstration, and she made this clear by bowing her head at the high-ranking officer.

The Fuhrer stood, clapping his hands. "Impressive display," he commented. "In all my years of observing the physical demonstrations, I have never seen anyone use their own blood as an amplifier for alchemy. You'll go far with that, Miss Chernikova."

Karla smiled, and she felt a push at her back. The soldier who had caught the blood dagger was behind her, and he was ushering her out, panic evident on his face. She let him lead her out back to the front of headquarters, where he left her with the woman at the desk once more.

"You're finished?" she asked without looking up.

"Yes," Karla answered, watching the soldier as he wrung his hands distressingly, as if he hated the fact that he now literally had blood on his hands.

"All right. You'll receive the results of your exam tomorrow; stop by some time and we'll let you know."

Karla nodded. Hopefully she'd done well enough to get in... She couldn't afford having to go home. If she was refused, she was stranded in Central until she could somehow work up enough money to buy a ticket back to the north. Of course, her mother would love it if she was refused the position, but Karla herself would hate it. If she didn't make it in, she had no hope of ever bringing her father back to Amestris. The mere thought of it distressed her and made her hope for her goal even more. Perhaps the Fuhrer would be in a good mood and accept her, even though she was half-Drachman and by default a bad choice to admit to the Amestrian military forces.

She left Central Headquarters, starting to walk down the path leading into the main town. Now, all she had to do was wait.


	4. Chapter 3: The Bleedingheart Alchemist

_A/N: Ahh, I'm so sorry this took longer to put up, everyone! I was really busy this past week, so I hadn't really gotten a chance to work on it. But I think it's rather amusing that I posted this today... 3 October 11. Happy Don't Forget/FMA day! :D I hope you enjoy!_

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><p>Chapter 3: The Bleedingheart Alchemist<p>

The next morning found Karla in a cafe. Last night, while looking for a place to stay, she'd met Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes, an officer stationed at Central. He had a wife, Gracia, and a daughter, Elicia, whose pictures he seemed to love to show off to anyone he met. He was very adoring of his family, and Karla had experienced his caring personality firsthand. The lieutenant colonel had insisted on Karla staying the night at his house once he'd had a conversation with her, and even though she had politely refused several times, saying that she didn't want to put him through any trouble, he had eventually convinced her to stay. Gracia Hughes, she found, was a charming woman, and their daughter was the cutest girl Karla had ever seen.

Now, this morning, Karla had left with Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, and he had given her some money to pick up breakfast. She had just finished eating, and now she was just sitting in the cafe, watching the people go in and out. In all honesty, she was putting off her visit to Central Headquarters. If she indeed hadn't made it in, she truthfully did not want to know. At least, she didn't want to know right now. She didn't want to have to go back to the Hughes' house, for they were willing to let her stay until she knew if she made it in and if she did, until she got the announcement as to where she would be stationed; she didn't want to have to tell Gracia that she had to go back to Virnikov when she had no money to leave. If that was the case, she didn't want the family lending her money again. She'd feel too bad about it to even accept it, much less do anything with it, no matter what the two of them said.

She looked over to the cashier, who was staring at her with a rather displeased look on his face. With a sigh, she stood up. It was probably time for her to leave... no matter how much she didn't want to. She pushed in her chair, waved at nobody in particular, and exited the cafe. This time, she didn't need directions to the military base; she knew where it was now. She stuffed her hands in her pockets and began walking, ignoring the hustle and bustle around her. She wondered why she didn't have cooler clothes; Central City was so much warmer than Virnikov. Why hadn't she thought of buying at least a couple of new outfits that suited Central's climate? It seemed to be common sense now that she thought about it... Then again, she'd never been out of the north until now, so she figured it was just a tendency not to think about things like that. She did enjoy being down here in the city, though. It would be a pity if she had to leave... It would have been a wasted trip, but at least she'd gotten to see a different part of Amestris. She was thankful for that, at least.

Minutes passed, and she reached the headquarters. _It's now or never,_ she told herself as she stood at the bottom of the steps yet again, just as she had yesterday. _Right now it doesn't matter if you've gotten in or not; you're never going to know either way if you don't go in there. _Satisfied with her pep talk, she straightened up, rolled her shoulders back so she was slightly taller, and made her way in.

She approached the desk she'd gone to yesterday, and was pleased to see it was the same woman it was the day before. "Um, excuse me," she said. "I was wondering if the results for the state alchemy exam have been decided yet?"

"Oh, yes," the woman replied, looking up. "Chernikova, right? You've been ordered to see Colonel Mustang. His office is the last door on the left. He will reveal your results to you."

_I've been ordered? That sounds promising. _"Thank you." She inclined her head and went through the same door she had yesterday.

Officers were bustling around her, running down hallways, talking to each other, saluting all over the place. Some held paperwork, others had coffee in their hands. It seemed quite the busy day today... She wondered if she'd be able to even find the office among all this. _Last door on the left...? _As she walked down the hallway, she kept her focus on the left side.

Eventually she reached it, a little lone office that had the door cracked open. She approached it, knocking on the door and standing back.

"Come in," a male voice said. Karla pushed open the door and walked in to find a pale man with black hair seated at the desk, huddled over paperwork. He had a very bored look on his face, one that was almost comical to see. At her presence, he looked up, inspecting her with his dark eyes.

"Colonel Mustang?" she asked rather hesitantly.

"Yes," the man said. "You are Chernikova?" At her nod, he reached into a drawer and pulled out an envelope. She took it and opened it, dreading the words.

_I, the Fuhrer King Bradley, hereby declare Karla Ivanovna Chernikova as skilled enough in ability and sound enough in mind to pass the Amestris state alchemy exam. From this day on, she is an official state alchemist, holding the rank of Major, and I the Fuhrer grant her the title of the Bleedingheart Alchemist. _

"The Bleedingheart Alchemist..." she mused, gripping the paper in her hand. Was she really reading what she thought she was reading? Had she really passed? Had she made it? "I'm in?" she asked bewilderedly, looking up at Mustang.

"You are," he confirmed. "Welcome to the military, Major Chernikova; you're now an official dog."

A feeling of absolute excitement spread through Karla just then, and she had to squash the urge to yell out in happiness. Instead, she swallowed and composed herself as Mustang placed a shining silver pocketwatch out on the desk.

"This identifies you as a state alchemist," he told her as she picked it up and inspected it. "Make sure you have it on you as all times; we don't want one of our own being imprisoned for impersonation."

"Yes, sir," she said, slipping it in her pocket to rest alongside her knife. "Do I get to keep my blade?"

"If it is used for your alchemy, yes," the colonel replied, getting to his feet from the desk. "I also have a uniform for you; it was part of your physical." He led her over to a small closet in the office, where he pulled out a uniform that hung on a clothes hanger. "Put this on," he said, giving it to her, "and report back to me. You are an officer now, and you will address me as Colonel."

"Yes, sir," she replied. She took it and hurried out of the room, quickly changing in the nearest bathroom.

Looking in the mirror after she was done, she inspected herself. The uniform was fresh and clean, absolutely spotless. The buttons were polished, and it fit her perfectly. She'd discovered that the pants had pockets and a little loop for holding the state alchemist watch, and therefore used them. Now, she smoothed her hair back, pulling it up into a bun and tying it with an elastic she'd found in her suitcase the night before. She now looked the part of an Amestrian soldier, and she was satisfied. Not wanting to keep the colonel waiting, she immediately went back to his office, where she stood outside the door again, waiting to be called in.

"Come in," Mustang's voice spoke again. Karla entered as directed, and she stood in front of his desk.

"In addition to your certification, I also have your assignment," said Mustang, thumbing through papers.

_Damn! Already? _She didn't know how long it normally took to get assigned, but she had a feeling that that happening in the first day was rare. She seemed to be lucky today, didn't she?

"You are to be stationed at Fort Briggs in the north," Mustang told her as he read, "and you will be serving under Major General Olivier Mira Armstrong. We at Central have determined that Briggs needs an alchemist, and you came at just the perfect time. None of the others are free, so we're sending you instead." He set his papers down and propped his head on his hands, fixing her with his eyes. "I am also personally sending you there due to the fact that Briggs holds less prejudice than the rest of Amestris. You're less likely to encounter racism due to that-" he gestured at her hair- "under Armstrong than you would anywhere else. Consider it a favor; after all, I've seen your exam results, and I like you."

"Yes sir," said Karla, "um, thank you, sir. When do I leave?"

"Tomorrow. It has already been arranged; just tell them you're the state alchemist going to Briggs, and they should let you on." Karla nodded, and Mustang continued, "It should be easy for you to adjust there; after all, you're from the north, aren't you?"

"Yes sir. I'm from Virnikov."

The colonel nodded. "You must know all about Drachma and Amestris's uneasiness then. Surely you've witnessed it firsthand, based on the way you look."

Karla bit her lip. "Yes," she answered. "It's pointed out a lot."

"I'm not surprised," Mustang said flatly. "Don't worry, I hold no ill feelings towards you because of how you look. It will be how you conduct yourself that will determine if I have any negative feeling towards you or not. Even though you'll be in Briggs, I'll still be hearing about your endeavors."

"Yes, sir," Karla acknowledged. _Why would _he _be hearing about it? He isn't my commanding officer... _This was already rather confusing to her. She mentally shrugged, figuring she'd figure everything out as she went along.

Colonel Mustang then nodded at her. "Well, everything seems to be in order," he said. "You are dismissed, Major. Make sure you get to the station tomorrow in a timely fashion. It'll be in your best interests to try and make a good impression on the major general."

Karla nodded and saluted him. When he saluted back, she left the room, his words echoing in her mind. That departing order was rather ominous... What did he mean, in her best interests to try and make a good impression? What kind of person was the major general, then? She figured he was a rather strict, intimidating man... after all, he was up in the north, and those from the north were known for being tougher than diamond. Karla knew she was tough; after all, she'd been raised up there, so survival instincts were second nature to her... but would she be tough enough to cut it around Briggs soldiers?

"Hey! Karla!" She heard a familiar voice call out to her, and she turned to see Lieutenant Colonel Hughes walking towards him. She smiled and saluted him, and he returned it promptly.

"Lookin' snazzy," he said, looking her over approvingly. "So you made it! I knew you would." His lips stretched into a grin. "So, what're they calling you now, Major?"

"Bleedingheart," she replied. "I have no idea why; I guess it's because of the kind of alchemy I specialize in."

"I like it," said Hughes happily. "You'll probably have to wait a couple days for your assignment station, but that's all right! You can still stay at my house!"

"I got my assignment already," she said. "I'm going up to Fort Briggs tomorrow."

"Briggs?" he repeated. "Oh, wow. They must think you're too tough for this place! Good job, kid." He clapped her on the shoulder. "Why don't you go home and let Gracia know? I'm sure she'd be delighted! Speaking of my absolutely amazing, beautiful wife..." He suddenly whipped out photos from the inside of his uniform and pushed them in Karla's face. "Isn't she delightful? And Elicia's so cute... Oh, I love them so much!"

"Sir, I don't need to see pictures," Karla said, trying to suppress a laugh as she pushed his hand down. "I can just go to your house and see them in person..."

"That's right, you can!" he said. "Well, go home and tell them the good news!"

She saluted him, and when he returned the gesture, she left headquarters. She swiftly made her way back to the Hughes' residence, for she knew where it was now, and knocked on the door. The door opened promptly, and she was greeted by a smiling Gracia.

"Oh, you made it?" she asked, looking appreciatively at the uniform. "I had a feeling you would. Congratulations!"

Karla followed Gracia into the house, where little Elicia was bouncing on the couch, her eyes bright as she saw the Chernikova girl. "You look just like Daddy!" she cried, dashing over and grabbing Karla's hand.

"Yep," said Karla, smiling at her. "I'm in the military now, just like your daddy."

"Yay!" Elicia exclaimed, hugging her legs. "Wanna play with me?"

"Sure!"

With that, Elicia dragged Karla off to her room to play. As they played house with Elicia's dolls, Karla couldn't help but think of tomorrow. What would it bring? What would happen? At least she was going back up north... That was a slight comfort. But... She was nervous. Extremely nervous. She hoped she could do this.

Somehow.


	5. Chapter 4: A Briggs Soldier

_((A/N: Welcome to chapter 4! Karla finally arrives at Briggs, and this is also when Olivier enters the picture. Forgive me if she seems OOC at any point; she's a rather difficult character to write, especially since I've never written her before. I hope you enjoy this one, and depending on how school goes, the next one should be up within the next couple of weeks or so. :3 As always, thank you for reading!))_

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><p>Chapter 4: A Briggs Soldier<p>

The next day, the sun shone brightly. It was the day that Karla was leaving for Fort Briggs, and she was nothing short of nervous. At least it would be colder there than down here, which was something she was used to, but that wasn't much comfort. Colonel Mustang had told her that she needed to make a good first impression on her commanding officer, Major General Armstrong, which sounded rather ominous to her. Of course, she figured that officers were strict, especially when they had underlings, but Armstrong sounded just frightening. She could imagine him practically beating her within an inch of her life if she angered him... She sighed. Creating images in her head wouldn't help her. The best thing to do was just confront this head-on and hope it went well.

She ate a quick breakfast with the Hughes, and Lieutenant Colonel Hughes escorted her to the train station to see her off. She approached the ticket booth and met the eyes of the seller.

"Where to?" he asked in a rather bored voice.

"North City," Karla answered. "I'm the state alchemist going to Fort Briggs. I was told to tell you."

"Right," said the ticket seller. He passed her a ticket, and she took it. "Free of charge. It's on Colonel Mustang's tab."

"Thank you," said Karla, inclining her head. She took it and returned to the lieutenant colonel's side, where he was smiling at her.

"You leaving?" he asked. "We got here kind of late, so you might want to board."

"Yes, sir," she said. She saluted him, and he returned the gesture. As she picked up her suitcase to board the train, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey," said Hughes. "If you're ever back in Central, come visit us, all right?"

"All right," Karla replied, smiling. "I'll make sure I do that. I'll see you around, eh, Lieutenant Colonel?"

"See ya around, Major. Make sure you keep in contact with us! Elicia's gonna miss you."

"I'll miss her," she said. She walked over to board the train, then waved at Hughes one last time. As he waved back, she climbed on, finding an empty compartment and taking her seat in it.

The train whistle sounded, and the great locomotive started departing away from the station. As it began moving, Karla looked out the window, at the smiling Hughes still waving at her. She raised her hand to wave back, knowing that it would probably be a long time before she saw Central again.

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><p>"I'm supposed to report directly to the major general..." It was several hours later, and Karla was still alone in the compartment. Not many people were on this train as were on the train coming here, and it didn't help that she was in military uniform this time. She was probably seen as quite intimidating to others, despite the fact that she was only a teenage girl, not even a full adult yet. These thoughts weren't at the front of her mind right now, however, as she was only growing more nervous the closer they drew to North City.<p>

"Why are they making me go directly to the top?" she wondered out loud. "It's usually only a lower-ranking officer, isn't it..? They didn't make me go to the Fuhrer to get my certification, and he's the highest up, so why are they doing this now...?"

She was probably over-questioning the customs of the military, which she knew would most likely get her in trouble, especially with the way she looked, but she couldn't help wondering. If she kept thinking like this, she'd get herself into a load of trouble, and even possibly discharged. She most definitely didn't want that to happen...

Karla reached into her pocket and drew out her pocketwatch. It was beautiful, untarnished silver, with the military emblem engraved in it. She opened it to discover that it worked, to her surprise. _So it's not just for decoration... _She pulled her knife out of her pocket, getting an idea. In a moment, her family name, Chernikova, was carved into the inside of the lid. That way, if she ever managed to misplace it or get it stolen somehow, they would know who it belonged to.

She closed her watch and slipped both items into her pockets again, the watch in her right and the knife in her left. However, after a moment, she pulled her weapon back into view again.

Karla's knife wasn't just any knife. It was a special Drachman assassin knife; small with a doublesided blade which narrowed at the end to a sharp point. Easy to conceal and carry, with an absolutely lethal slice if forced with enough pressure. The handle was small and mahogany, with a bronze snake entwined around it, forming the grip for the fingers. It was a rather simple weapon, but Karla was proud of it. Her father had given it to her; Ivan Chernikov had, in his younger days, been an assassin for the underground forces of the Drachman military. He had told young Karla many stories of how he'd always been sent to infiltrate Amestris and other neighboring countries in order to end the lives of those officers who dared to oppose his country. The young Chernikova found it rather ironic that she was now using this very same knife, the one he had used to end so many lives, even here in Amestris, to help her own country. This blade had once been Ivan's lifeline, and now it was Karla's. Interesting how things passed down through family ended up, wasn't it..?

"You were once a helper, but now you are a traitor," she murmured as she turned it around in her hands. "Interesting little Drachman thing, you..."

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><p>The next couple of days passed swiftly, the train ride uninterrupted, and Karla was wide awake as it finally pulled into North Station. It was early morning, just as before, except she'd been awake most of the night in nervous anticipation. As she exited the train and passed through the station into North City, she looked around anxiously. There were no North Headquarters that she knew of; she'd been in this city enough times when she'd been going to school to know. But if there were no headquarters... then where was Fort Briggs?<p>

"Um, excuse me," she said, stopping a passing pedestrian who looked at her curiously. "Do you happen to know where Fort Briggs is?"

"Fort Briggs?" the gruff, burly man repeated. "What the hell're you going there for?"

"I'm stationed there," Karla replied, gesturing at her uniform.

"Stationed, huh?" The man paused a moment. "The Centrals stuck you with Armstrong? Oh, boy. I'm sorry for you. Follow me, kid."

"Sorry?" Karla repeated as she followed the man up to a gated pass.

"Yeah," he said. "Sorry. Armstrong's as tough and frozen as they come. There's a reason she's called the Ice Queen and Northern Wall of Briggs."

Karla bit her lip at the description. Something in the man's reply confused her, though... _She? _

"Here we are," he said, lifting the log holding the gate shut and kicking it open. "We don't have a carriage going up today or I'd send you to that, but just walk on this path and you'll see it soon enough. Good luck, kid!"

She nodded her head at him, indicating her thanks, then started following the path as he directed her. She heard the gate swing shut behind her, and suddenly she was alone.

She trudged on, her feet sinking into the snow. A cold wind started blowing, forcing its way into her uniform through her coat. _These uniforms are _not_ made for northern weather,_ she thought as she used one arm to hold her jacket against her as close as she could. _If they decided to send me here they could've at least given me a heavier uniform... Then again, I've never seen any of those soldiers up here before, so... _

The wind soon turned into a light snowstorm, and flakes of ice flew into Karla's eyes as she attempted to peer into the distance, trying to see where the hell the damn fort was. She'd been walking for a good few hours now, and it was afternoon, she could tell from the way the few shadows leaned. "Dammit, where _is _this place?" she demanded to no one.

A sudden rustle in the snow next to her caused her to stop. When she heard it again a few seconds later, she pulled out her knife, at the same time pulling up her sleeve. "Who's there?" she called out, the blade against her flesh, ready to cut. "Show yourselves! I am a state alchemist, and I'm not afraid of you!"

Suddenly, she was tackled from behind, and she was forced into the snow facefirst by a heavy force. Her arms were pinned painfully behind her back, and her knife was wrestled from her grip. She felt handcuffs close over her wrists, and she forced her head up and yelled, "Hey! Hey, _hey!_ What's the idea?"

"Drachman!" a male voice yelled. "We've got a Drachman!"

"Bring her in," another voice, more stern, ordered. "The major general would like to see this one."

Karla was pulled up onto her feet, and she looked to see two men in white uniforms on either side of her, holding her by the arms.

"Make her unable to struggle," said one of them. Before she could react, she was suddenly clubbed in the back of the head with something, and her vision instantly went black.

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><p>The throbbing pain in the back of Karla's head woke her, and she sat up. "Ow..." she muttered, rubbing the spot where she'd gotten hit and looking around.<p>

The room where she was was small, very cramped and very close. If she was claustrophobic, this would not be a good place for her... but luckily she wasn't. There was a door of bars in front of her, and it was only then when she realized where she was: she was in a prison cell.

"What the hell," she muttered, getting to her feet and crossing over to the bars. "Hey!" she called. "Is there anyone there?"

"Shut it, Drachman," a gruff guard next to the barred door said. "We have no respect for your kind."

"I'm not even supposed to be in here," Karla countered. "I'm supposed to see the major general! I was sent up from Central City after I got my state alchemist certification!"

"Likely story," the guard said, walking over into her view. "You probably just made that up so you thought you could get out of trouble. You landed yourself here by being in Amestris illegally."

"I'm not an illegal!" Karla cried in frustration. "I'm in a uniform, aren't I? I've got the pocketwatch to prove what I am! I was born here; I'm a natural legal citizen!"

"Uniform and pocketwatch doesn't prove anything," the guard countered. "You could have killed a real state alchemist and stolen them."

"I seriously doubt Amestris has anyone named Chernikova in the military besides me," the girl said flatly. "Just let me out already, will you?"

"Not likely," the guard replied. "We'll wait to see what the major general wants done with you."

Just then, another guard walked up and opened her cell. "Let's go, Drachman," he said, grabbing her by the upper arm. "Major General Armstrong wants to see you."

As they left the cell, Karla glared at the guard who had originally spoken to her, her green eyes radiating pure anger and frustration towards him. He met her gaze, his brown eyes locking onto hers, regarding her with the same distaste as she did him. After a moment, she turned away, and she walked with the guard who was ushering her.

In a few minutes, they reached an office, and the guard opened the door and shoved her in. As the door closed behind her, Karla's eyes widened. This was no man sitting at the desk... this was a woman!

"Are you... Do I have the right room...?" she asked unsurely.

"Who are you?" the woman demanded, lifting her head to meet Karla's eyes. Her eyes were a piercing blue, their gaze hardened by the cold and toughness of the mountains. Her hair was long and blonde, and part of her bangs covered one eye. "What are you doing in my fortress?"

_Her fortress? Oh, shit... This is the officer I had to see... This is Major General Armstrong!_ "I am Karla Chernikova, sir-" oh damn, the sir had slipped out before she realized it – "and I am the Bleedingheart Alchemist. I was sent up here after I got my state certification from Central three days ago. I am stationed here, sir."

The major general's eyes narrowed. "Central sent me an _alchemist?" _she demanded. "What the hell are those fools trying to do? Are they trying to mock me?"

"I was told a state alchemist was needed up here, sir," said Karla before she could control herself.

"Needed?" Armstrong repeated. _"Needed? _Briggs needs no alchemists! We've always been more than capable around here without them! And for that matter, why did they send me _you? _You're a Drachman! You shouldn't even be _in _this country! Do you have any idea about the problems we've been having with Drachma?"

"Yes, sir," Karla replied. "I witnessed them firsthand. I come from the town Virnikov. Drachman soldiers are constantly trying to reclaim it as their own territory."

"I can't believe this," Armstrong muttered, bringing a hand to her head. "Central sent me two of my absolute hated things combined into one... a Drachman alchemist! How did you even join the military anyway? Are they just letting anyone in these days, no question of whether they're Amestrian or not?"

"I am Amestrian," Karla said firmly, her own eyes narrowing. "I was born here, I was raised here. I look Drachman because my father is Drachman. My mother is Amestrian, and it is with Amestris that my loyalty lies. I have no allegiance with Drachma. And as Amestris has my full loyalty, you have my full loyalty as well."

"I'll be the judge of that," said Armstrong, her fists clenching on the desk. "A Drachman alchemist... Who do you think you are? First you're our opposing country's race, and then you're an alchemist on top of that. Do you think you are better than anyone because of what you are?"

"I am no one, no better or worse than anyone else," Karla replied, her eyes fixed on the major general's. "With all due respect, don't judge me on what I appear to be, Major General. All I can give you right now are my words of absolute loyalty. You may judge me on those, but not on my origin."

The woman stared at her in silence, and Karla could see that she'd inadvertently challenged her. Maybe that wasn't the best idea, but she felt she needed to in order to gain at least a little bit of recognition as something other than a mere Drachman.

"Your first assignment," Armstrong said after a moment, "is to clean the lower levels of the fortress. I want to see them sparkling, and you will have absolutely no leniency. Prove yourself to me that way, _alchemist, _and I'll judge you then. Now get out of my office."

Karla saluted and left the office, biting her lip. Okay, maybe that wasn't the best way to try and get an initial good impression... but then again, she never was good at those. Her time at Briggs was going to be interesting, no doubt... but she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. The major general was a force all herself, and the girl could now see why she was called the Northern Wall.

She really hoped Central had known what they were doing when they'd sent her up here.


	6. Chapter 5: Karla's Assignment

_A/N: Omg you guys. I am so sorry I've kept you all waiting OTL I've been really busy lately and haven't really had much time for anything online. At least I managed to finish the chapter! It's a rather short one, and I also apologize for that. The next one will be longer, I promise. I don't know when the next chapter will be on, but please bear with me. Thank you for all the reviews, and thank you all for sticking around. I love you guys. _

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><p>Chapter 5: Karla's Assignment<p>

Karla stood in the lower levels of the Briggs fortress. The words of the major general still rang through her head, and she was getting more and more frustrated every time she thought about them. Olivier Armstrong was so focused on the fact that Karla was Drachman and an alchemist... She didn't seem to care about the fact that half of the girl was also Amestrian, a point that Karla had tried to drive forward and impress on her. Once again, she was being analyzed on the way she looked... As far as Karla knew, Colonel Mustang had lied to her. Less focused on racism in Briggs? If this was less focused, she would hate to see how other stations of the military would treat her.

_Colonel Mustang, I am going to kill you,_ she thought bitterly, her grip tightening on the mop she held. _Less inclined to encounter racism up here my ass. You could've warned me she didn't like alchemists... _

She sighed and looked over the area. It was little better than frozen down here. Icicles hung from the ceiling, and the ground was crusted with little patches of ice. Her task was to clean all of this up somehow. She already didn't like this. This was a job for fresh new recruits, or privates, or someone. Someone lower than her in rank. She was an alchemist. She'd prefer to go to the front lines, maybe on a border patrol. She had to remember, though, that she had to work on proving herself to her commanding officer. If this was one of the ways she had to do it, then she had to do it.

As Karla looked up to the icicles again, an idea suddenly struck her. All the major general had said was to clean the lower levels. She never said Karla couldn't use alchemy to do it... and she was just a smidgen too short to properly break the icicles...

She pulled her knife out of her pocket and pulled up her sleeve, wincing at the sudden cold. Damn, it was practically freezing down here. She made a small, thin slice in her arm, and as it started bleeding, she used the blood to draw a transmutation circle over the cut. Karla pressed her hand to her arm, and it sparked and glowed as she pulled a small crimson anvil out of her arm. "Not exactly what I wanted, but not bad," she commented, looking it over in her hand. She looked up at the icicles. Nope, this anvil wasn't what she wanted, but it'd have to do.

She threw it up, and it struck one of the hanging icicles, breaking it off the low ceiling. Sliding out of the way, she watched as it crashed to the ground, shattering into tiny pieces. She grinned. It worked! This was quite efficient. Sure, her arm would get tired from throwing, but this beat out climbing a ladder and trying to slice the ice off the ceiling.

Karla continued on her way, occupying herself with breaking icicles. This was easier than she'd thought it would be... well. Right now, she wasn't complaining; she'd found a way to make her current task easier, and the ice was breaking off rather cleanly for her throwing something at it. After a while, she was done shattering icicles, and there were little patches of ice on the ceiling where they had previously hung. Karla then took the rag she was originally going to use to clean the ceiling and instead pressed it on her bleeding arm.

"Okay..." she said, looking around. "What next...?"

The patches of ice still crusted the ground, and she looked around for a mop and bucket. Karla didn't see one anywhere in the room, and she sighed. "It's not like I know where anything is here," she muttered. "I have no idea where a supply closet is... How am I supposed to clean _this _up?"

She heard footsteps behind her, and she looked over to see a man standing in the doorway of the hallway. He was tall, and he was clad in uniform as she was. His hair was white, and he wore dark glasses over his eyes. Karla wondered how he could stand that constantly; it wasn't very well-lit down here at all... Her eyes trailed over him, noticing his skin was brown instead of a pale white like hers. She hadn't seen anyone here who looked the same as he did. _So he's different as well,_she thought. _I wonder what he has to hide... _

The man held a mop in one hand, and a bucket was on the floor next to him. He nodded his head at her, and she walked over to retrieve the items. She glanced at his ranking. He was a major just as she was. Could he possibly be a state alchemist? No, he didn't look it. Alchemists always seemed to have their own certain look; it always seemed to be incredibly obvious that they were different from others in that they used alchemy when others did not. As she took the mop and bucket, Karla stared at him, intrigued for some reason. Perhaps it was the thought that she'd found someone like her in a way; there weren't many people like him in Amestris, and he probably got many bad reactions just like her. Whatever it was, it was rather admirable to the seventeen-year-old, and she rather enjoyed the fact she met what seemed to be her own kind.

"May I ask what your name is, sir?" she asked without thinking, caught up in her meeting of the man.

He stared down at her for a moment, then answered, "Miles."

She saluted him, and once he had returned the gesture, she added, "Chernikova. The Bleedingheart Alchemist."

"Yes," Major Miles replied. "I've heard of you. You seem to be the talk of the fortress. The others think your intention is to upstage Major General Armstrong."

Karla's eyes widened. Could _that _be why Armstrong was so cold towards her? Could she possibly think that Central had sent Karla up here to challenge her position? "I have no intention of the sort!" she cried louder than she'd intended. "I'm only a state alchemist working toward my own goal! I only do what the military tells me, nothing more. They told me I'm stationed up here, so I followed their orders."

Miles sighed, but it was impossible to tell what his emotion was. Those glasses of his hid his eyes, and Karla already found she was annoyed by them. Why couldn't he just take the damn things off? It wasn't as if she was going to stare at him or cast him aside for it. After all, she hated people staring at her hair, so why would she do the same to his eyes?

"You should get to work," he merely stated. "You know how she wants it to be done. I will check in later." He saluted, and after she did so, he walked off.

Karla stared after him for a moment, then started to work. The water in the bucket was surprisingly rather warm, and it melted the spots of ice incredibly quickly. Armstrong's words echoed in her mind, and she began to work faster and more efficiently. If she wanted to prove herself, if she wanted to stay here, she needed to work like hell and do exactly what she was told... despite whatever her next orders may be.

Soon enough, the floor was mopped, and the patches of ice were gone. Karla stood and looked at her work, musing about it. It seemed spotless enough... but was it passable enough for the major general? She looked over her shoulder and saw that Miles had returned, and he walked over to stand next to her. He towered over her slight five-foot-five frame, and he made her look completely frail. She was slightly intimidated as he looked over her performance, and he walked slowly down the hallway, scanning the surroundings with his eyes. After a moment, he came back and nodded at her.

"You've accomplished your task," he said. "I will report to the major general. You return to your quarters and wait for further instructions."

Karla nodded and saluted, then left. It took her a while, but she eventually found her way back to her living quarters. She paced around nervously, wondering what her verdict would be. If her commanding officer was displeased, she'd probably end up sending her back to Central, a place where Karla did not want to go. It was the only question in her mind... where would she end up? Would she stay here or would she be forced to leave? She hoped the female officer would be impressed enough to keep her here...


	7. Chapter 6: Verdict of the Major General

_A/N: Oh my goodness, it's been forever, hasn't it? I'm so sorry I've kept you all waiting o.o It is indeed winter break for me, but I've been so busy surprisingly that I haven't had any time to work on it! And on top of all that, I've been sick for nearly a week now. It's been driving me nuts. XD But anyway, here's the first new chapter of 2012! Happy belated New Year, everyone! I hope you enjoy it. Writing Olivier is surprisingly a challenge. I hope I haven't gone too OOC with her. Please enjoy, and it would be very helpful if you would leave reviews and let me know how I'm doing :3 _

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><p>Chapter 6: The Verdict of the Major General<p>

It had been three days Karla had been waiting, and there still had been no response from the major general. All her orders had come from Major Miles, and she had carried them out as directed. Even though they were little things, such as keeping the fortress in top shape and delivering orders to the lower-ranking soldiers, she followed them as accurately as possible, and she was currently playing the role of dutiful servant.

Now, she was outside, her back resting against one of the walls of the mighty fortress. Her arms were crossed against her chest, and some strands of hair were fluttering into her eyes as they were blown by the wind. Snow lay as far as she could see, and her boots seemed to sink into it like quicksand. She knew she probably shouldn't be out here, but she didn't care. She didn't have anything to do; she'd finished everything Miles had told her to do for the day. Besides, it wasn't as if she wasn't allowed to come out here. She'd end up having to come out here at some point anyway; it was best to become familiar with her territory while she had the chance. She sighed, a smile on her face. She loved it out here. She loved the purity of the white, the stinging of the cold… Nature seemed to contradict itself out here. It was all so beautiful, but it was all so blistering at the same time. Kind of like Major General Armstrong, she thought. She chuckled at her mind's wandering, scolding herself at the same time for thinking of her commanding officer like that.

The sound of a door opening shook her out of her reverie, and she looked over to see the telltale blonde hair of her commanding officer coming outside. Karla instantly stood at attention, her arm posed upward in a salute as Armstrong approached her.

"What are you doing out here?" the woman demanded. "Don't you have work to do?"

"I finished it, sir," Karla instantly replied. "Major Miles gave me a list of my tasks, sir, and I completed them as ordered, and as quickly and thoroughly as possible."

"Impressive," the major general said. "That's something I've never seen from a fresh recruit before. You've impressed me slightly, Chernikova. I was also satisfied with your cleaning of the lower levels the other day."

Karla instantly felt herself relax. Armstrong seemed to be pleased, at least a little bit, with her. That most definitely bode well for her and her likeliness of staying up here at Briggs… Maybe the major general would finally start seeing her potential now! Wait, maybe that was a bit too high-hoping… She still had to prove that she wasn't just some Drachman who didn't belong in Amestris…

"Wipe that smirk off your face now," Armstrong ordered. Karla instantly made her expression neutral; she hadn't even realized she was smiling until the other woman had mentioned something. "You're not entirely on my good list yet. However, I do have to talk to you. Follow me in—what was that?"

A rustle in the snow far ahead of them suddenly sounded, and both of their heads shot in the same direction. It was almost too faint to hear, but Karla heard it, and as it happened again, Armstrong instantly drew her sword, her eyes narrowed.

"Go find out what that was," she ordered. "Now!"

Karla instantly shot off into the snow, pulling out her knife. She crouched behind a snowdrift, listening for the sound again. When it reached her ears, it sounded like footsteps, and she peered over to see a hooded figure approaching the fort from the direction of Drachma. She surfaced from behind the snowdrift, racing toward the figure with the flesh of her arm exposed and her blade pressed against it.

She delivered a swift kick once she reached them, and the figure tumbled backwards into the snow. It didn't fight her as she straddled its chest, her blade pointed straight at its throat. She wrenched the hood off its head to reveal its identity and gasped.

She'd never mistake that face anywhere. It was a Drachman for sure, male; his hair flowed past his shoulders, and now that he was on the ground, it was strewn across the snow behind him. A red mustache graced his face, and his brown eyes stared up at her. Her eyes widened.

_It was her father… _

"Karla," Ivan Chernikov said, smiling up at her, his Drachman accent thick. "Never thought I'd see you here."

Karla stuttered. "Wh—what are you…?"

"I came back," her father confessed. "I had to see you and your mother again… I snuck out of Drachma and came here. You've gotten so big… I missed you."

Karla's eyes, previously wide with recognition and surprise, narrowed to sudden anger. "You…" she growled, trying to find the right words. "You… You dumbass! Did you think I'd be _impressed_ with you coming back? Especially like this? You're in this country illegally! If I was anyone else, I would have killed you where you stood already!"

"You don't appreciate it?" Ivan asked, his eyes narrowing. "You don't appreciate my efforts to see you?" His next words came out in his native language of Drachman. _"You're wearing their uniform. You've become one of them. One of them who drove our family apart. You don't have anything anymore, do you? You did it of your own accord. How many families are you going to drive apart, Karla?"_

A snarl escaped her throat, and she slapped him across the face, the blade of her knife cutting into his cheek. _"I did this for a purpose," _she growled at him, in Drachman as well. _"I have a reason for being here. I have a reason for wearing this uniform. Don't call it their uniform. If you've forgotten, I was born here, just like they were. All my loyalty is to them."_

Ivan sighed, not even flinching from her attack. _"Believe what you want to believe," _he told her. _"If you wish to kill me for infiltrating your territory, then by all means, go ahead, Karla. Just remember your father loves you, malyutka." _

Karla bit her lip at the term. It was Drachman, of course... the Drachman term for "little one." It was what he had always called her, back in the days where she was innocent and free and her only worries were what she was going to do to entertain herself that day. The word was painful to her now, ever since that day three years ago...

"_Don't call me that,"_ she muttered angrily, pulling a pair of handcuffs from behind her back. _"I'm not a little one anymore, Father. I will not kill you; I couldn't live with myself if I did that. Instead..." _She turned him over, wrenched his arms behind his back, and locked his wrists with his handcuffs. "Ivan Chernikov, I'm placing you under arrest," she said, switching back to her native language. "You have infiltrated Amestris under illegal grounds. Your ultimate fate will be decided by Major General Armstrong, the Northern Wall of Briggs. Until then, you're coming with me."

She pushed herself off him and stood up, roughly wrenching him upwards by the sleeve of his jacket. Without sparing him another glance, she pulled him back toward the fortress, and surprisingly, he didn't fight. The major general was still standing outside when they arrived, her sword remaining drawn. Her eyes narrowed when she saw the man Karla was escorting.

"Who is this?" she demanded. "He's Drachman, isn't he?"

"Yes, sir," Karla confirmed. "His name is Ivan Chernikov. He was escorted from Amestris three years ago for not completing his citizenship paperwork on time." _And I witnessed the whole damn thing, _she added in her thoughts.

Olivier's eyes passed from Ivan to Karla and back to Ivan again. Karla saw that something seemed to click in her head as the woman's expression hardened. "Put him in one of the cells," she ordered. "Now. We cannot afford to let him escape."

Karla nodded and saluted, then pulled her father into the building. After a while of walking, they reached the prison cells, and she shoved him into the first one available. "Lock him up," she instructed one of the guards, who nodded and her and slammed the cell door shut, locking it. She didn't spare her father one notion of farewell before leaving him in the cold, silent darkness.

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><p>"Chernikova."<p>

Karla stood in Major General Armstrong's office, having being summoned there after she'd placed her father in the prison cell. Olivier sat behind her desk, her chin propped on her hands, her eyes locked on the girl's.

"That must have been hard for you, wasn't it?" the older woman asked. "Especially since he was your father."

Karla's eyes widened slightly, but her expression remained unchanged from the determination that was on it. _She knows... That's probably what she figured out earlier..._

"Oh, yes. I know who he is, Major. It wasn't hard to figure out. I know how Drachman names work. The females' last names end in A, do they not?"

"Yes, sir, they do."

"Chernikov, Chernikova... It isn't difficult. When I saw you bring him to me, I was worried you were going to plead for his freedom. After all, I've done my research, and the Chernikov line has a history of strong family loyalty."

Karla had to resist the urge to hang her head. It was true... From the stories her father had told her when she was a young girl, not only did the name go back a long way, but there were almost never instances when a family member betrayed another. By leading him into Armstrong's, and therefore Amestris's, hands, Karla had done just that. _He must be incredibly disappointed in me, _she suddenly thought. _I did it without a second thought... I've disgraced us... _She would pay later. She knew it, because she would make sure it would happen...

"However," the major general continued after a moment of Karla's silence, "when I saw the handcuffs on him, I knew you hadn't shirked from your duty. Therefore, I have decided that you are to remain at Briggs until I decide otherwise."

Her heart leapt. _Oh my lord. I'm staying? I'm actually staying? I actually impressed the Ice Queen?_

"If, however, you show the slightest amount of disloyalty, it is straight back to Central with you. I have no need for disloyal, cowardly soldiers in my fortress. You are dismissed."

Karla saluted before bowing her head and saying, "Thank you, sir. It is an honor to be in your presence." She turned and left the office, and as soon as she was outside of it, she leaned against the wall, suddenly breathless.

_I did it... I don't know how I did it, but I did it... _

She'd managed to impress her commanding officer. It was something she'd never thought she'd actually accomplish. Maybe Olivier wasn't as judging as she initially seemed to be...

The next test was actually staying. She couldn't show the slightest form of fear or feelings against the fort. It was her one and only chance to prove herself to the rest of the world, and by being placed at Fort Briggs, it was certain to be a challenge indeed. She would earn her respect, and she would protect her country by doing so.

_A Chernikova never backs down from a challenge._


	8. Chapter 7: Training with the Captain

_**A/N: Dear god, you guys. I'm so sorry for keeping you all waiting for practically a year for this one chapter. x.x I've been extremely busy as of late; life has just been going and going with no stopping in sight, plus my muse for this story went kapoof for a while. However, this is to let you all know I'm still alive, and finally here with an update. If this story still has fans, thank you so much for waiting so long. I love you all. Also: My version of Buccaneer is a version that one of my friends on Tumblr writes; we've been RP partners for quite a while now, and this is basically the way she writes her Buccaneer. I adopted him. xD Yes, I have permission. Anyway, enjoy the chapter! :3 **_

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><p>Chapter 7: Training with the Captain<p>

Three days after the major general's approval, Karla woke in the barracks of the fortress. The girl's excitement still hadn't left her, even after the 72 hours she'd had to reflect on the recent occurrence. She was actually looking forward to her work, something she had never before done, which was quite the interesting feeling for her. Now, just what in the world would she be doing today? Armstrong had had her doing little things, such as running around the base delivering things to other soldiers; basically being a little handmaiden to everyone the major general had decided on which to assign her.

She had gotten dressed as she mused on these thoughts, and was now scooping her hair up into a bun, typical military attire. She wanted to impress whoever she was working with today, therefore she didn't want to look like a scrounge who'd just been picked up off the road. That wouldn't be a very pleasant first impression, now would it? She was sure her Drachman appearance would be easily noticed, and she didn't very much want an additional reputation of a filthy Central bum to go along with it. She laced her boots before she left, quickly hurrying away from the prying eyes of the other soldiers who seemed to have just woken up after her.

Oh, yes. That was something she was going to have to remember: Men outnumbered women by far here. As far as she knew, she and Major General Armstrong were the only women in the fort. Well, if that wasn't absolutely _wonderful_, she didn't know what was.

She scurried out of the barracks, deciding to forgo food in search of today's assignment. Food could wait. Karla had gone without it before, many times as a child. Where she came from, it was a common occurrence. One could either get used to it and make do without, or scamper around, scavenge, and find nothing in most cases. Luckily, the young alchemist had always gone with the former rather than the latter, which, to her, made her survival even more successful.

Now, hm... Who in the world should she go to in order to receive the assignment? There were two choices: Major Miles or the major general. Hm. Well, she had more experience around the major general than Miles, and frankly, he intimidated Karla quite a bit more than Olivier did. She didn't know why. Perhaps it was the way he would watch her as she worked, whenever he was assigned to supervise her... She could never tell what expression he wore on his face, what his eyes spoke, all because of those accursed goggles he wore. Perhaps it was the way he was always so silent, barely speaking a word. He was difficult to read, unlike Armstrong. She was always so forward in her words and intentions... They were two radically different people, Karla already knew. With this in mind, she turned and began walking towards Olivier's office. She would be easier to deal with.

Once she reached her destination, she knocked on the door. A stern voice replied, "Enter," and with that, she stepped inside, her instant salute at the ready. She may not have been in very long, but she was a fast learner, and she knew already that she was supposed to salute to everyone of higher ranking first.

Olivier swiveled around to face her as Karla stood in front of the desk, and she surveyed her for a moment, her blue eyes passing over the girl's figure. "Alchemist," she said, saluting in return. "Up bright and early, aren't we?"

"Yes, sir," Karla replied almost instantly. "Good morning, sir."

"I know why you're here," the officer stated. "You're wondering what your assignment for the day is, aren't you? Of course you are. An eager recruit, aiming to please every high-ranking officer in existence. I've seen enough of them to know." She paused, her chin resting on her hands. Karla's pulse raced rapidly, nervously, in her ears.

_Is this a good thing or a bad thing? Damn, it's so hard to tell... _

"I have an interesting one for you," Olivier continued. "One that should test your... endurance. If you want to continue with your station here, you need to be sure that you can handle it. Since you're so small – " she looked over Karla again – "I need to make sure you aren't going to drop dead on me. The last thing I need, and a thing that I hate even more than I despise alchemists, is a weakling who drops dead at the mere brush of cold."

Karla raised an eyebrow before she could think. Who in the world did Armstrong think she was? She most certainly wasn't _small;_ she may be physically smaller than the rest of the soldiers, but she had some muscle on her, and she certainly had stamina. This, she knew. One had to have stamina to escape enemy soldiers in hot pursuit. Otherwise... they were as good as dead.

"Sir," she spoke, attempting to keep her tone civil, "I most certainly have enough endurance to keep myself here. It's survival of the fittest here, correct? I have been one of the fittest for the past seventeen years. I doubt this will be much of a challenge."

This time, it was Olivier who raised an eyebrow. "Take that sort of tone with me again and I will have you locked up," she growled. "I have no room for cockiness in my fort. Arrogance does not live long here. You would do well to learn that." She glanced down at the paperwork in front of her as Karla clenched a fist quietly. Arrogant, hm? Did Olivier really think she was arrogant? This woman had a few things to learn herself...

After a moment, Olivier looked up at her, resuming her speech with her tone clipped. "You are still a child. You have a bit of maturing to do. However, this is not why you are here. I have assigned you to training today. You will train with the other recruits under Captain Buccaneer, and it will last until he dismisses you. It is standard procedure; everyone does it here. You will do this, and you will perform with flying colors. Since you decided to _challenge_ me, I will accept no less than perfection from you." She chuckled. "Shouldn't be much of a challenge, you said? Your opinion will change once you experience it. The training takes place outside. Now, out of my sight."

Karla saluted once more, and once her commanding officer had returned it, she immediately left the office. As she closed the door behind her, she grunted in discouragement. Damn it, why did she have to run her mouth? And why did she always choose to do it at the worst times? Hell, if she had done it to anyone else, she might as well have been getting on a train back to Central!

_Right. First thing to do: Learn to control what I say. Bluntness clearly isn't appreciated here._

She quickly found her way outside, and instantly felt like an idiot just standing there practically knee-deep in the snow. Where in the world was she supposed to go? She cursed herself for not asking just who in the hell Buccaneer was... and she certainly didn't want to look as stupid as she felt by asking someone. She looked around nervously, seeking out a recruit or two she could latch onto and follow to wherever it was she was supposed to be. Suddenly, as if her non-existent prayer had been answered, two men laughing loudly exited the fort behind her, walking straight past her as if she didn't exist at all. Good. If they didn't notice her, then they surely wouldn't care about her following them.

Karla followed them quite a ways away from the fort, until finally reaching an area that was marked with poles and flags. _This must be the training area,_ she thought. _Or, at least, I sure as hell hope it is... _

Men were already gathering into a square formation; it looked as if they'd done this numerous times before and already knew what to expect. Karla quickly scampered over and planted herself into an open spot, immediately standing at attention. Perhaps she could impress whoever this Captain Buccaneer was with her attentiveness at the very least... at least, she hoped she could. Unless he was like the major general and ended up practically making fun of her for it. How rude would that be? He wouldn't be able to make fun of her anyway; as far as she knew, she as a major was higher-ranked than he was as captain. She could punish him if she so chose, she realized. She chuckled to herself. Well, then. This wouldn't be so difficult now that she had that pleasant thought in mind. Karla reached into the pocket of her uniform and gripped her pocketwatch for reassurance. Yes. She could do this. She knew she could.

A few minutes seemed like an hour to her, but it wasn't long before a booming voice rang out in the area: "Get in line, ya runts!"

The men around her looked startled, but immediately went into the attention position, their eyes all facing towards whatever was in front of them. Karla remained strong, stock-still and silent. Who in the world was here? It wasn't long before a man arrived in front of them, his eyes narrowed, and Karla took this time to see who it was.

Muscles. That was all she could see at first. A huge, bulging pile of muscles. Was this even a man? Oh, yes, there was his head. It looked tiny when compared to his large, rugged body. He wore a uniform as they all did, except what the hell was with his arm? It didn't look like his other one... One was flesh, and one was... good lord, that was automail, wasn't it? One arm was automail, just as massive and bulky as he was. He looked mostly bald except for a mohawk on the very top of his head, and more black hair hung over his shoulder in a braid. A braid that was tied with a bow. How convenient. A thin mustache lined his upper lip; that seemed to be the smallest thing on him. The entire effect would have been comedic if he was a short man, but he was one that towered over everything in existence. His overall build reminded Karla of a massive grizzly bear, and she instantly knew that he would not be one to mess with. He looked nothing short of absolutely intimidating.

But yet... wait, what was that? Her gaze had drawn themselves onto his eyes, which were a striking dark blue color. A blue that seemed familiar, like something out of a dream... Before she had much time to think about it, though, those eyes suddenly locked in contact with hers, and Karla quickly glanced away, cursing herself for staring at him so long. She heard his quiet chuckle, just before his voice boomed out again.

"Yer all new recruits, aren't ya? Well, pray to whatever god ya may have, because I'm sure as hell not gonna be so damn easy on ya. General Armstrong sent me out here to train all of ya, and that's definitely what I'm gonna be doin'. Ya gotta complaint, you can leave for all I care. Ya have an opportunity now t'go." The area was silent for a moment, and the man chuckled once more. "No takers? All right, ya had your chance, now you're stuck with me." He clasped his hands behind his back and began walking along the lines of soldiers, glancing over them as he passed them. He reached Karla as she stood – damn it, she was in the front row, that was just fantastic – and paused in front of her. She didn't dare look up at him; god, he could probably snap her in half if he wanted, and therefore just kept her eyes level. Unfortunately, her eyes were level with the bottom portion of his chest, which didn't help her much.

"How unusual," he said to her, walking around her and looking her over. "A woman's managed to get'er way up here. Now how in the hell did she do tha'?" He stopped in front of her again and instantly looked down at her. "Ya think you're a major, do ya?" he demanded. "Who the hell made a little runt like you a major?"

"The Fuhrer, sir," she replied instantly, almost stammering her answer. "I'm... I'm a state alchemist, sir."

The bear-man made a disapproving "tch!" as he shook his head. "Alchemist, huh?" he asked. "They sure as hell wanted to get rid o'ya then, by sendin' ya up here. And yer Drachman to boot. She told me about ya." After a moment, he walked away to inspect the other soldiers, and Karla expelled the breath she had been unconsciously holding in relief. She felt like she'd just narrowly escaped death... god damn, he was _big._

After a few minutes, the man was at the front of the formation again. "I'm Captain Buccaneer, in case some o' y've been wonderin'," he announced. "Now. I've got an idea for all of ya. Yer all gonna run me a mile. Y've gotta be fast in battle, and yer gonna learn to be fast here. We're gonna keep goin' and goin' til yer all doin' a time I like. A mile's four runs around this stretch. Now get yerselves goin'! I don't have all day!"

With that order, the men began sprinting away, completely breaking formation in the process. Karla sprinted along with them, her legs carrying her easily, as if they were completely accustomed to such on-the-moment running. Luckily for her, she'd had practice with this; she hadn't run from Drachman soldiers for nothing. Four runs across the stretch should be easy. She was fitter than most of these men here, she knew. She was passing them up rather easily. What, did they not want to do this or something? Why the hell were they here if they didn't want to do this?

As the minutes and the laps wore on, however, Karla felt her body growing tired. Okay... maybe she'd overestimated herself a bit... She was slowing down; her legs felt like they were burning already. She'd never run for long stretches of time like this. She was only on her third lap, she shouldn't be tired already! _Come on, body,_ she urged. _I know you can do this. You've run before. Why is this so hard for __me now...? _

She was one of the last to finish the fourth lap, and as soon as she dashed by Buccaneer and came to a stop, she leaned forward, her hands on her knees, gasping for breath. Her legs were in pain, feeling stiff from the run, and she marveled on how she could still be standing. Normal people would collapse from such a run... Captain Buccaneer's voice boomed again, calling everyone to attention, and she instantly snapped into position, still panting.

"Some of ya did fine," he said, surveying his crowd, "but others're terrible, such as Lil' Red over here. Ten minutes to run a mile? Tha's pathetic! So, yer all doin' it again!" Karla's heart fell; she knew he was talking about her as she heard some of the other men groan. God damn it, she knew she could do better... "Don' give me yer attitude! Get goin'!" She dashed off again, leaving the men behind in the dust.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Karla was exhausted. The captain had made all of them run the mile at least five more times, and some of the men had collapsed from the effort. She had managed to stay standing, no matter how badly her legs were shaking or her body was aching. In addition to this, he had had them train in handling both guns and blades, and Karla had discovered she was much better at knife-wielding than bearing arms. Perhaps it had been her history with alchemy, but she had a much larger flair for blades than she had with guns.<p>

All of this, and all with the captain breathing down her neck almost constantly, was more challenging for Karla than she had previously envisioned. She may have had stamina, more than some of the other men, but even she knew she had strained herself today. She knew Buccaneer had picked her out for a reason, whether it was her different appearance or the fact that the major general had told him about her, but it was clear that he had worked Karla much harder than he worked any of the other men. Perhaps it was merely the fact that she was a woman; she didn't know for sure. As she walked to the cafeteria, however, she was intent on avoiding him as much as she could. Frankly, he scared her shitless, and she wasn't one to frighten easily. She didn't want to think of anything too complex right now, though; her stomach was empty and her body was exhausted, and all she wanted to do now was sleep. She could worry about these things later.


	9. Chapter 8: Chernikova's Defining Moment

_**A/N: I am so sorry this took so long. I had a bit of a derp and writer's block with this for the longest time, but I finally got inspiration and finished this this morning. I hope you all enjoy. :3 Reviews are always welcome, whether good or constructive-criticism. **_

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><p>Chapter 8: Chernikova's Defining Moment<p>

Three months. Three months had passed since Karla's induction into the military, since she'd joined the honorable, strict, tougher-than-diamond forces of Briggs. During that time, the soldier had slightly matured, both physically and mentally. When it came to her body, she had gotten taller – though not by much; she was done growing now –, and she had lost the slight chubbiness she had had as a teenager. Her figure was a bit more curved now, her muscles strong and lean, giving her a rather attractive appearance. She hardly noticed this about herself, however; she was never one to really care about how attractive she appeared to others. If the other soldiers knew what was good for them, they wouldn't ogle her figure. When it came to her mind, she still had the mind of a teenager, but she was steadily growing more serious about things, and she wasn't actively aggravating her commanding officer as much as she had when she'd first joined. Instead, she'd noticed a steady infatuation with the major general; Karla often found herself thinking of her beauty when she let her mind wander... but, no. Those thoughts were improper, and it wasn't likely that the major general would be all too eager to act upon them, no matter what the young Drachman fantasized.

In addition to this, Karla had aged, turning eighteen. She had spent her eighteenth birthday at the fort, hiding out in the snow, for she'd been promoted from a low scrounge of a fresh recruit to a full-time border patrol. Sometimes she served it with Captain Buccaneer; they never had to worry about intruders on those days, for his combat automail was enough to send them screaming and dashing away. During her time at Briggs, she'd learned that he had two separate forms: one that had diamond-tipped claws, and the other with a massive clamping vicegrip. Both looked larger than she was tall, and she knew that if she was an intruder, those would scare the everliving shit out of her, so she was glad that it worked on others.

Today found Karla in the mess hall, gulping down a quick breakfast before heading outside to take her post once more. She was clad in her camouflage uniform, one that was pure white, causing her to blend into the snow rather easily. She sat at a table alone, as she always did; it wasn't due to her instinct to avoid the other soldiers anymore, it just happened to be a habit for her now. Nobody had ever bothered to try and sit with her before – who would want to be caught dead sitting with a Drachman, anyway? – so she was rather used to it, and she had gotten over the loneliness easily. Breakfast was eggs and sausage, as it always was. Routine was an incredibly strong presence at Briggs, she'd learned, and thankfully she preferred it that way.

Something moving in front of her suddenly caught her attention, and she looked up in surprise to see Major Miles sliding into the seat in front of her. Well, this was new... What in the world was he doing here? Usually, he was always with the major general, or off by himself performing whatever duties he'd been assigned to do. This was something peculiar...

"Major Miles," she greeted, pausing in her eating.

He glanced up at her – or rather, she thought he did, she could never tell with those goggles of his always obscuring his eyes – and nodded. "Major Chernikova. Good morning."

"Forgive me for asking, but is there something you require?" she asked. "This is unusual for you. Nobody ever sits here with me."

"As you know, we have been planning for a possible attack from Drachma," the man replied, his tone as stoic as ever. "Today, we are putting that plan into action. Early this morning, the scouts reported activity from the Drachman side of the border, heading towards the fort. They are reportedly moving at a swift pace, so Major General Armstrong has planned her forces to defend. Being that you are the only alchemist here, she has placed you at the front lines."

Karla blinked in silence for a moment. Was he serious? Was the major general serious? Putting her, the Bleedingheart Alchemist, at the front line of attack? This was most surely a suicidal mission! There was no way... but then again, the Chernikova had figured she would have been a part of a defense at some point. Even the most green of recruits ended up on the battlefield at one point or another...

"Is this an order?"

Miles raised his head once more, and this time, she could feel his eyes lock onto her. Well, that was a stupid question, wasn't it? "She would not put you there for laughs. She believes you have potential, but she wants to see it for herself."

Ah, there was the motive. It was a way for Karla to prove herself once again. Of course... they would stop at nothing here to find a possible reason to discharge her... Well. Luckily for her, she could handle anything this queen of the fortress could dish out. She wasn't going to give up that easily.

"Right," she said, glancing back down at her food, which was growing cold in front of her. "So I am to fight at the front lines, taking down any enemy soldier that dares to cross my path?"

"You could put it that way, yes," Miles replied. It was a moment before he spoke again; he seemed to be pondering thoughts in his mind. "Most soldiers would take this opportunity as an honor. The Briggs forces would do anything to protect Amestris. You, however... You don't seem to think the same way, do you?"

Karla's eyes narrowed, and she resisted the urge to snap back in retaliation. Who did he think he was? What gave him the right to question her loyalty? God, she hated whenever someone did that... "Just because I am Drachman doesn't mean I don't wish to protect Amestris," she said in a low voice. "The famous Briggs forces you speak of would do well to learn this. It has been three months since I have been here, hasn't it? Have I failed any of you, even once?" She raised her head, studying the man in front of her for a moment. "Besides... You should know better than anyone here of the dedication I feel. You aren't entirely Amestrian either, are you? Your appearance defies it. I don't know what you are, but you aren't full-Amestrian, if even Amestrian at all. Yet, you are still here, fighting to defend what you feel is your country, aren't you, Major? How could I know whether _you _aren't entirely dedicated to performing your duty or not?"

His jaw tightened, and she knew she'd hit a sore spot. Good. He might give her an infraction for that, but at the moment, she didn't care. If she couldn't make anyone else understand, she would make him understand, no matter what low blows it would end up coming to.

After a moment, the man stood, unresponsive to her queries. "Keep that temper of yours in check," he merely replied. "It's gotten you in trouble before, and it will do so again if you don't learn to control it. Report to the border in an hour."

He departed the table, leaving her alone, biting her lip. Great. When would she learn to keep her damn mouth shut? She took the moment to curse her father's teachings, angrily stabbing her fork into the sausage in front of her. She had no appetite left after that confrontation; damn her father, why did he teach her to always be ready to fire back, to defend herself? He must have realized it would get her in trouble eventually... and then she remembered. That was right. Shortly after she had captured him, her commanding officer had sent him back to Drachma. He had been put through another deportation, and there was no way to tell what he was going through back in his country of origin. She didn't know much about Drachman customs regarding things like that, but something told her that whatever it was, it wasn't pretty.

She shook her head, ridding herself of those thoughts. _No, _she scolded herself. _Now is not the time to be thinking about that. Concentrate on the attack. On the defense. You will be fighting your first battle for Amestris, damn it. You need to be on full alert. _

A moment later, she had stood up and gotten rid of her food without finishing it. Nourishment could wait. There were more important matters at hand.

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><p>The snowdrift in front of her completely hid her slender form. Her uniform plus the paleness of her skin made it easier for her to camouflage herself, and this was something she felt blessed for having. The wind of the light snowfall invaded her uniform through the slight openings it had, sending chills through her body as it additionally caused the leaves of the trees around the area to rustle. There was nothing but silence from the Amestrian soldiers, as they were tense with anticipation and readiness to fight. Karla glanced around at her allies; everyone held a gun of some sort except her... all she had was her blade, her blade and her blood. Hopefully the two together would be weapon enough for her to fight properly...<p>

Suddenly, a shout from a border patrol sounded out, loud and clear in the crisp air. "Drachma!"

The young alchemist peered over the snowdrift to see a large group of soldiers clad in black rushing toward the border. There they were... the Drachman forces. There were so many of them; Karla wasn't sure what she would be able to do with all of them, especially if they all aimed toward her; curse her vivid hair for being so damn visible. The Amestrians all pointed their guns out from their hiding places, waiting for the opposition to make the first move. They were primarily defense, after all; she supposed they always waited to strike, never being the initiators.

Drachma's first move came swiftly, as a gunshot rang out and a voice yelled, strangled with pain. In the distance, Karla saw a figure drop to the ground, unmoving. Her eyes widened slightly as the major general's voice sounded, barking orders. _They... They just killed someone... They're serious about this... _

"Chernikova!" shouted Armstrong's voice. "What are you doing? Don't just sit there! Go! Get out there and fight!"

The eighteen-year-old's heart started racing in her chest as fear started to fill her. God damn it, why was she asking her to do this? She'd never killed anyone before; she'd never had the heart to do so, not even when the soldiers were attacking Virnikov! Oh, God, she didn't want to do this, this would probably be her last day living if she went out there, there would be no way she'd survive, damn it...! She chomped down on her bottom lip as she resisted the urge to start screaming and crying, but she shook her head rigorously, blatantly refusing to follow orders.

"_Alchemist!" _the major general bellowed, her tone now one of anger. "I am not going to tell you again! Get out there and fight! _That's an order!"_

"Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh, God," Karla muttered to herself, her hands shaking. Half of her was saying to stay put, or even to run back to the fort, but that would mean she would have to face Olivier's wrath later, and she would rather avoid that at all costs. Therefore, she did her best to swallow her fear and shot out from behind her shelter, racing across the snow as fast as she could, her blade twirling in her hand. As she ran towards the enemy, she quickly transmuted a second dagger from her blood, gripping it in her open hand once it was made. _Shit, I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing, but I can't die. I won't allow myself to die! Not here! _

The Drachmans began shooting at her as she approached, and she rolled and darted around in the snow to dodge the enemy fire. Good lord, Olivier was insane to send her out alone like this! A bullet grazed her shoulder suddenly, causing her to yelp in pain. Damn it, she'd been hit, but she couldn't let that stop her... She jumped to her feet with a yell, dashing at them again. They were right in front of her now, guns pointed at her, but she dashed into the middle of the formation, narrowly dodging bullets, her blades whirling and glinting.

Karla swung at the soldiers wildly, slashing at them with ferocity. She took a moment to notice that underneath their armor, their throats were unguarded, and she smirked slightly. _Idiots, _she thought. _That's where the jugular is, the most lethal target to strike in the human body! _Now having what she thought of as a good plan in mind, she began attacking more carefully in her movements, aiming for their throats. The sound of gunshots from both sides rang in her ears as she slashed, now taking down soldiers one by one more easily. The enemy yelled Drachman curses at her, firing at her wildly, growing more and more frustrated as she continued to dodge their bullets. If there was anything about herself that Karla was thankful for, it was her speed and agility, something she'd built up well during her time of living in Virnikov. It had saved her life then, and it was saving her now.

She swung her leg out at a soldier suddenly, tripping him and causing him to fall, and she leapt on top of him and plunged both of her daggers into his throat. His blood spurted out onto her unprotected hands, and he choked as he struggled to throw her off of him. However, Karla stood her ground, pressing all her weight on him as she wrenched the blades across his throat, successfully killing him. As his body shuddered beneath her before finally stilling, her eyes widened as she realized what she'd just done.

_I just... I just took a life... I just killed... _

She staggered to her feet in horror, quickly backing away from the soldier, her eyes locked on his body. What... What had she done? She'd thought nothing of it as she'd performed the action... She felt tears spring into her eyes, and she impatiently blinked them away. What was she doing? This was no time to reflect on her actions! She would be killed herself if she didn't get moving and start fighting again!

Something cold was suddenly pressed against her temple, and she froze. Her gaze slid over to the side to see a Drachman soldier pressing a gun to her head, a wide, evil smirk on his face. Her heart began thudding anxiously once more as he readied himself to pull the trigger.

"_Hello, Amestrian," _he said. _"Your victory spree is over. Prepare to die." _

Karla's eyes narrowed, and she swung her crimson dagger at him, slashing across his throat. "Not a chance," she muttered angrily, throwing herself at him as he stumbled backwards in shock. Gunshots and yells continued to ring through the air, and just as she was regaining her stability on her feet again, pain exploded in her back. A scream tore from her lips as she fell forward into the snow, her hands barely breaking her fall. Her shoulder throbbed as she met the ground, but that was minor compared to the painful sensation that was now ripping through her back. One of her hands scrabbled at her back; it was wet with something, and as her fingers brushed over a wound, she let out another scream. She'd been shot again, and this time, the bullet was lodged in her back. It had been a square shot... one that would kill her if she didn't take care of it as soon as possible!

_I am not dying here!_

She staggered back onto her feet despite the pain that was now sending tears down her face. This was no time to surrender, however, she still had work to be done!

Shots from the Amestrian side were now coming at a more rapid pace than before, and more and more Drachman soldiers were falling dead around her. Shit, they were accurate as can be, weren't they? The pain in her back was making it difficult to stay on her feet, let alone walk, and after taking a few steps, she dropped to her knees, grimacing. Karla was beginning to feel lightheaded; the amount of blood she was losing was becoming dangerously high, and yet more soldiers continued to throw themselves at her. _God damn it, why won't they stop? How many more of them are there...? _

She weakly crawled through the snow to the back of the formation. There were nothing but dead bodies back here, of soldiers killed by the Briggs forces. She looked up in front of her to see a living soldier pointing a gun down at her. Karla bowed her head, waiting for the oncoming shot. This was it. This was where she was going to die. This soldier was going to kill her, and her body would remain in Drachma.

However, the shot never came, and Karla raised her head to look at the soldier again. What were they doing? Why didn't they fire? She was at their complete mercy; it'd be an easy kill, so why didn't they take the opportunity? As Karla continued to stare at the soldier, her eyes narrowed slightly. Something was different about this one. They were physically smaller than the others she'd faced, and she swore she could see their body trembling as they held the gun. A mask was over their face, obscuring it from her view, so she couldn't tell whether they were male or female, or how old they were. Why were they hesitating to kill her? They were enemies... yet, this one didn't seem to want to do it...

"_What are you doing?" _Karla spoke, the Drachman flowing fluidly from her lips. _"Why aren't you shooting me? You're a soldier; you're supposed to be defending your country. Or perhaps you are waiting for this wound to finish me off... is that what it is? Is that what your plan is? To wait for a wound to kill me so your hands remain clean?" _

She closed her eyes as she saw the soldier's finger tighten on the trigger. A shot rang out, but Karla felt no pain. That was odd... but she gave herself no time to think as she suddenly darted at the soldier, knocking them to the ground, and dug both her blades into their throat. Their body shuddered underneath her, just as the other soldier's had done, and as she wrenched the blades across their throat, effectively cutting it in half, they didn't respond. Blood stained the snow as their body stilled, and Karla reached up to pull the mask off their face.

_Wait a moment._

She tossed the mask aside and looked down into their face, curious to know the identity of the soldier who had hesitated to kill her. Her heart suddenly seemed to stop, and her eyes widened as she learned just who she had killed.

_No... What... No, this can't be... I didn't... _

That face. That face was the most familiar thing to her on this battlefield... She knew this soldier. She'd known this soldier since childhood. Tears filled her eyes as she stared down into the glassy, faded blue irises beneath her. The soldier's lips were curled upwards in a gentle smile, one that ripped through her heart because of how warm it was.

_This is... This is her... No... I killed... _

Karla screwed her eyes shut as her shoulders began to shake, and a sob ripped through her body. That was why this soldier had hesitated to kill her... who could really kill their best friend?

"No!" she screamed into what was now silence, tears falling down her face. _"Kyrie!"_

Her head spun viciously, and she slumped over, falling off her friend's body into the snow next to her. _Please,_ she thought, begged whatever other force existed. _Just let me die. Let me die here. I killed the only woman that's ever mattered to me... _Her hand weakly grasped one of Kyrie's frozen ones, and she didn't open her eyes, not even to see whose footsteps were now approaching her. The familiar voice above her was muffled-sounding, and the coldness of the fingers that pressed against Karla's throat didn't rouse her curiosity. Instead, she succumbed to the pain, the pain of her physical injuries, of her emotional stress, and she lost consciousness.


	10. Chapter 9: Aftermath

**_**TRIGGER WARNING: SELF-HARM. IF THIS AFFECTS YOU, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER.**_**

**_A/N: Greetings, everyone. I know it's been months, and I apologize; I really hope there are some of you that still stick around D: But anyway, as a reward to you all for waiting so long, I have two chapters I'm uploading today (July 5, 2013): This one and chapter 10. The rating on this story has changed due to the content of the fic becoming darker. Please enjoy. _**

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><p>Chapter 9: Aftermath<p>

"_Hey, Karla?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_You know something? You're a great friend." _

"_Oh? How do you know?" _

"_How could I not? People treat you bad for reasons I don't get, but you still treat them with respect, even though they don't deserve it from you." _

_Karla paused, glancing down at her feet, at the ice beneath them. She was right; those people didn't deserve the young Chernikova's respect, but..._

"_My father always taught me to respect everyone," the redhead replied, "even those who are less than honorable towards me. Said it'd pay off in the end." She chuckled, then glanced up at the taller girl. "Kind of ironic, isn't it? Since he was an assassin and all." Her hand was suddenly grasped, and she looked down questioningly. "Kyrie?" _

"_That's what I like about you," Kyrie said. "You're always so selfless... I love that." _

_She was suddenly leaning in. Her face was growing closer... wait, what was going on?_

"_Karla..." Kyrie's voice was a murmur, almost a whisper, and her lips were so close... "I think I love you." _

_Karla's eyes closed just as Kyrie's lips softly pressed against her own, and a strange bliss filled her. _

_So, this was what it felt like to be kissed..._

The scene slowly dissolved then, and instead, it was replaced with strange voices. Voices that she could only vaguely place...

"The major general's had about enough. She said if the alchemist doesn't wake soon, she'll be sent back to Central."

"Yeah, well, that's the woman for ya. Surprised she didn't do it sooner."

Wait... Karla knew whose voices those were. The first one was the Briggs doctor, and the second was Captain Buccaneer. But then that meant...

She hadn't been left to die after all.

"Well, there's no fear of that now, is there?" she croaked, her voice hoarse as she opened her eyes. She cringed at the sudden invasion of light, but as her sight adjusted, she looked around at her surroundings.

She was lying in a small bed; she seemed to be the only patient in the infirmary today. Her gaze revolved around the room, and she nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw the massive torso of the bearlike soldier.

"Oh, y're awake, Red," his voice sounded. Karla looked up at him; his arms were crossed over his chest and a stern expression marred his face. "The major general's got a bone to pick with ya."

Karla groaned as he departed the infirmary. She attempted to push herself up into a sitting position, but pain shot through her shoulder and back, and she fell back onto the bed with an agonized cry. At this point, the Briggs doctor entered, walking over to her bedside and surveying her.

"You've been out for a week," the doctor stated as Karla bit down on her lip from the impact. "You were hit in the shoulder and back. The shoulder injury wasn't severe, but it's bad enough that you'll feel it for a while. Your back, though... I was told you were shot point-blank. You were close to being paralyzed, if not killed. That one's going to take a while to heal, so you'd better _not_ overwork yourself."

She went silent suddenly and moved away from Karla's bed just in time for the young alchemist to see her commanding officer standing in the doorway. Olivier's demeanor was calm and collected; however there was a fire in her eyes that suggested that underneath her current facade, she was livid.

Olivier walked into the infirmary and stood next to the bed, her stance resembling Buccaneer's. "Alchemist," she growled, her tone almost causing Karla to flinch from the venom within. "Explain yourself. What were you _thinking? _You completely disregarded my orders to fall back, and when we found you, you were clinging to one of _them!" _Her voice rose as she continued the interrogation, until she was shouting. "You wanted me to believe you were one of us, only until you got a chance to betray us to them! I knew it all along! I have half a mind to discharge you right now! _Explain yourself!"_

As the major general's words rained down on her, Karla had to bite down on her lower lip to keep herself from bursting into tears. She'd wanted to _avoid _this sort of treatment, not cause it... And she'd never heard an order to fall back! Then again, she'd been in so deep on the other side fighting...

"That soldier wasn't Drachman," she said finally once she'd collected herself. "She was Amestrian. The Drachmans kidnapped her."

"And how the hell do you know that?" Olivier demanded. "For all I know, you're making this up in hopes that you stay out of trouble!"

"I'm not making _anything _up!" It had come out more loudly than she'd intended, and that was likely to get her in even more trouble as it was, but she wasn't caring about that at this very moment. "I'm telling the truth, okay? Virnikov is constantly being attacked by Drachma because there's nobody _there! _Nobody from this military is protecting it! The citizens have to fend for themselves every damn time because nobody here has bothered to go and try to assist them! They burn down our homes and do whatever they want to us! I have seen dozens of people die, and dozens more disappear with them, and Kyrie Fleischer is one of them! Why the _hell _would I want to side with the people who have thoroughly destroyed my hometown more times than I can count?"

Olivier's eyes narrowed slightly, and, oh lord, Karla knew she was in trouble. "You're half-Drachman," the officer finally replied. "You have more ties to them than we do. We imprisoned your father. Wouldn't that be reason enough for you to decide to fight for the other side? Wouldn't you want revenge for what you seem to think is wrongful imprisonment?"

At this, Karla met her eyes. "I would rather cut my own heart out." It was damn true, too, and she was sick of having to constantly explain this! Her back ached in pain, but she didn't let it show as she and Olivier seemingly held a staring contest. She wasn't going to back down just because this woman seemed intent on getting rid of her. There was no way in hell Karla was going down that easily.

However, suddenly, Olivier turned and strode out of the room without another word, leaving silence behind her. Karla blinked in stunned surprise. What? _What? _What in the _hell _was that about? Who the hell did she think she was, to leave in the middle of a discussion? God damn it, nobody walked out on Karla Chernikova, not even the mighty Major General Armstrong! She moved to get out of her bed, intent on striding right out to wherever her commanding officer was and delivering her a lecture of her own, but pain shot through her back once more when she tried to sit up. She let out a yelp and collapsed back down, her face scrunched, biting down on her lower lip with a hard clamp as the pain slowly passed.

At this, the doctor arrived at her bedside once more. "The hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded, her arms crossed. "What makes you think you can get up and go? Did you forget you've got bullet wounds? Ones that almost killed you? What exactly makes you think that I'm going to let you go already?"

Karla let her breath out in a low hiss as the pain finally receded, then opened her eyes and looked over at the other woman. "Just who does she think she is?" she demanded, one hand clenching into a fist. "Who the hell does she think she is? She can't come in here and accuse me of being a traitor then walk out on me!"

"She can do whatever she wants," the doctor replied. "She's the highest in command here; nobody here at Briggs holds a higher rank than she does. She's called the Northern Wall for a reason – it'd be completely idiotic and practically suicidal to try and mess with her." When Karla opened her mouth to retaliate, the doctor continued, "If you want to complain, try a general in Central, but you're in no shape to even leave the bed right now. It's survival of the fittest around here, Major. You can either learn to live with it or take your happy ass right back to Central or wherever it was you came from."

Karla groaned as she laid in bed, listening to the doctor's words. This was total bullshit... Nobody should be allowed to parade themselves around as if they were completely self-important as the major general did! Then again, she wanted to prove herself... and by taking her happy ass, to use the doctor's words, back to Central and out of here would only prove Olivier's point instead of hers. Damn it, there was no way she was going to let that happen. She would come out on top.

After another week of residing in the infirmary, Karla woke one morning to the doctor lightly shaking her awake. "All right, Major," she said, helping the girl up into a sitting position, "I'm thinking that I'm ready to finally release you. You've made enough progress in the healing process that I'm not all that worried about you anymore. However, I'm leaving the choice ultimately up to you. You can either let me release you today, or you can stay an additional night in case you want to be completely sure about your condition."

This news was enough to brighten Karla's mood even slightly from what it had been for the past week. She hadn't had any visitors since Olivier's confrontation as far as she knew, and while her body had slowly been lessening the pain in her back and shoulder, it wasn't enough to comfort her from the thought that she really hadn't mattered to anyone for the time she'd been in here. Then again, she supposed she deserved it; she hadn't been the friendliest individual to everyone. She'd been so desperate to prove herself to Olivier that she hadn't bothered trying to get to know really anyone else.

"What's with that look?" the doctor suddenly asked. "I thought you would've been happy that you finally get to make a decision."

"Well, would it really matter if I stayed in here or not?" Karla retorted, keeping her eyes fixated on the blanket that covered her. "It's obvious I don't matter to any damn person here, even slightly. Or did the major general decide to tell everyone not to see how I was doing or something?"

"Oh, don't even give me that," said the other woman, sitting at the foot of the bed. "Obviously you matter to _someone._ Do you think they would have really brought you back from the battlefield if you didn't matter to them? Do you really think I would've done what I could to help you heal from your injuries instead of leaving you to die if you didn't matter?"

"Then where the hell is everyone?" the soldier asked. "Ever since the major general came in and accused me of being a traitor, nobody's shown up!"

"That's not true. There's been someone. You just haven't seen him, since you've been asleep every time he's been in."

At this, Karla looked up at her, bewildered. Who in the world would come to visit her, especially while she was sleeping? Major Miles? No, he seemed too... too much of a loner to do that. It also certainly wasn't the major general, as she wasn't male. Then... who? "Who?" she asked.

"Who else do you think?" The doctor's lips curled into a slight smirk. "Captain Buccaneer, that's who. He came in every night, around the same time, and always while you were asleep. He'd stand next to the bed for a while, just watching you. He usually stands there for around twenty minutes, but the other night, he stood there for an hour and a half. He never admitted it, but I think he was worried about you."

This new knowledge lingered in Karla's mind, only leading her to confusion. What? Why would he do that? "Does he do that for everyone?" she asked, hoping that it was merely something that he did out of some sort of weird kindness and concern for the fellow soldiers.

"Not in all the time I've been here," the other woman answered, "and I've been here quite a while. For all his brawn, the captain's just a huge softie at heart, I'm convinced."

Karla's heart dropped at this. What reason would Buccaneer have to come in to see her every night? For that matter, why had it only been at night? Why wouldn't he have stopped by during the day, when she was awake? Sure, it could've been because he could be busy during the day, but _every_ day? It made absolutely no sense to her...

"I think I want to be let out today," she said after a moment of silence. "You're the doctor, and if you say I'm ready to be released, then I'm going with that." She also didn't like the thought of Buccaneer coming in and watching her for another night... or did she? It was quite a confusing feeling... The thought that she really did have a visitor instead of what she'd thought before was comforting, but the fact that he came in the night and did nothing except stand there and look at her? What was there to look at?

"All right, if you're sure." The doctor's voice interrupted her thoughts once more. The older woman began writing on a clipboard she'd been holding in her hand, and Karla swung her legs over the side of the bed. After a moment, she gave her signature on the forms that the doctor held before her, and then she was given a smile. "There you are," her caretaker announced. "You're ready to go. I'll hand your report in to the major general, just so she knows you're out."

Karla nodded and gingerly moved herself off the bed to stand on her feet, waiting for her body to protest with pain again. Instead of the sensation of a blade slicing through her back that she was expecting, all the pain that surfaced was small pinpricks up her spine, barely even noticeable. A small smile lifted her lips as she crossed into the small bathroom that was connected to the room. It was about damn time that her back had healed enough to where she could move without fear of collapsing from pain.

She closed the door behind her and discovered her uniform on the counter near the sink, and she pulled the hospital gown off her and tossed it to the side. She moved carefully in an effort not to aggravate her injuries as she got herself dressed, and once she was finished, she directed her attention to the mirror in order to properly fix her hair. As she brushed through the tangles of red, she caught sight of her own reflection, seeing it in a way she'd never before seen it. Her face was lined with creases, especially around her lips, which caused her to look as if she was wearing a permanent scowl. As she restrained her hair in its typical tight bun, she gazed upon her own eyes. Forest green as always, that same spark of determination that had burned inside since childhood... but there was something else there now. Something else that she'd never seen... could it possibly be guilt? A faint glimpse of guilt? A dread built up in her heart as she continued to peer at herself. Of course it was guilt... what happened a short two weeks ago... Kyrie's face suddenly burst into her mind, and her eyes began welling. Yes. That was guilt, guilt and grief over what she'd done, and she suddenly had no thought in her head except that she needed to pay. She needed to suffer, to feel pain the way Kyrie had, all those years of being stuck in Drachma.

Before leaving the bathroom, she pulled up the right sleeve of her uniform to reveal her bare arm, the snowy skin littered with small scars. Her knife was still attached to the clothing, but instead of being in her pocket, she discovered after a moment's panic that it had been moved to a sheath that had been sewn onto the back of the belt, presumably for easier access... and for this, she inwardly thanked whoever had thought to do it, for she needed it to be easily accessed in a time like now. She drew it with her left, and she continued to stare down at her arm. A couple of tears fell from her eyes and landed there, and it was only a moment before she pressed the blade to her skin and made a thin slice. She hissed at the sting, but once she saw the blood surface from the wound, a feeling of peace spread through her, a feeling of justice. As it continued to flow, she stared at it, sheathing her weapon. Never before had she seen the liquid crimson as something so beautiful, something so wonderful that it calmed her aching, frantically-pounding heart upon first sight...

"Major? You all right in there?"

The knock and sudden voice at the door startled Karla out of her seemingly hypnotic staring, and she quickly yanked some tissues off a shelf and pressed them against the cut in her arm, swiftly covering it with her sleeve again. "I'm fine," she called back, opening the door and offering a hopefully convincing smile to the woman. "I was just leaving. Thank you for releasing me, and for helping me at all."

"That's my job," the doctor replied. "Now, I'd better not see you back here for a good while. I'll be disappointed in you if I do, Bleedingheart."

Karla nodded and left the infirmary. Her new destination was the barracks, where hopefully she could be alone for a while. She wanted to see her blood again, she wanted to feel the new peace that now came with the cuts that she'd never felt before. Her walk was slower than it normally would be; after a week of barely standing, let alone walking, she had to somewhat learn how to do so without aggravating her wounds, more specifically, the one on her back. The shoulder wound had healed almost completely.

As she walked, she caught sight of none other than Captain Buccaneer, heading the opposite direction. She contemplated stopping to speak to him, but decided against it; the faster she could get to being alone, the better. They passed each other without a word, but when she glanced upward at him, she could feel his gaze burning through her, those hard, cold, gray eyes seeming to discover something she wanted hidden... _he couldn't know about this already, could he?_ her brain thought anxiously. She kept her outward demeanor calm until she knew she'd disappeared from his line of sight, and she quickened her pace until she'd slipped into the barracks, sealing the door behind her.

Just as she'd thought and hoped, the large room was empty and deserted. She crossed to a bed in the far corner that she'd claimed as hers a year ago and reclined on it, making herself comfortable. She pulled her knife out from its sheath once more, the silver still marked with the dark red from the bathroom. Pulling up her sleeve in a gesture that was already so familiar once more, she made no hesitation in cutting this time. It was almost as if she was getting ready to transmute as she had always done, but this... This had a different reason behind it. There was no intent of a transmutation this time. This time, she was cutting for herself. She wanted to numb the pain... no, she _needed _to numb the pain. She could not operate without that pain being forced under and away. She couldn't exist without the pain being killed.

Karla cut into her flesh twice more, then sheathed her knife and laid fully on the bed, her eyes closed. This didn't kill the pain for good, she knew, but it did enough for the time being. It would serve to be enough, she thought as that feeling of peace spread through her again, until the next time it decided to show its face... and time only knew when that was. Her alchemist title couldn't be any more accurate than it was right now: Bleedingheart indeed.


	11. Chapter 10: Breakdown

_****TRIGGER WARNING: SELF-HARM AND ATTEMPTED SUICIDE. IF THIS AFFECTS YOU, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER.****_

_**A/N: And here is the second chapter I will upload today. Chapter 11 is almost complete, and right now, this fic is planned up to chapter 18. However, it's nowhere near done. So, hopefully, I will have something resembling an actual schedule when it comes to uploading these chapters. Please enjoy! **_

* * *

><p>Chapter 10: Breakdown<p>

Oh, that sting. That sting that hurt, but in the most pleasurable of ways...

Karla had been living with the sting for the past week, though it had felt like a month. She'd managed to come up with and maintain a system: every time she felt the ache in her heart, every time the face that Kyrie wore at death appeared in her mind, she would send it away with a pain of her own. It was her own infliction, her own addiction, and there was no way she planned on stopping. As far as she knew, nobody had discovered her activities, though she'd noticed that Captain Buccaneer had started to tail her whenever he could. It had gotten quite annoying, the way he always looked at her like he knew that something was going on, something that he had the intent of identifying. The two rarely spoke to each other, and Karla kept her right arm carefully guarded every time she left the barracks.

Now, she was cursing herself as she walked through the fortress, searching for a new place to hide. After all, her addiction wasn't exactly something she could do in the open, now was it? She discovered a door that led outside and went through it, barely noticing the wind as it tore at her with an intense burst of cold. The temperature was the least of her problems right now, she thought as she leaned against the wall of the giant base. She unsheathed her knife once more, pulling down her right sleeve as she'd so often done by now. Thin red lines decorated her flesh, signs of recent punishments to herself. It seemed as though the more frequently she did this, the more frequently her guilt came back to torment her, and it was starting to take more than one or two cuts at a time to successfully push it back down.

She closed her eyes and sighed, feeling goosebumps prickle on her skin, all over her body from the small amount of skin she dared expose to the harshness of nature. For a normal person, the deathly cold would be enough of a punishment, but since when was she normal? Opening her eyes, she glanced around at her surroundings, watching for anyone that could possibly spot her, biting her lip at the ever-present guilt that was now nipping at her heart once more. She could not have picked a worse place for this, but she'd had no choice. She had to be quick or risk getting caught. With this thought in mind, she brought the blade down into her arm, once, twice, three, four times. Four separate cuts, all horizontal, all stretching up her arm. She gave herself no time to reflect on the feeling that came with it before she yanked her sleeve back down and whirled back inside.

Karla quickly slipped her knife back into its sheath without wiping it clean. If anyone happened to see blood spatters on her clothes, it wouldn't bode well.. She could feel her blood on her skin, threatening to run down her arm, and she casually pressed her sleeve against the wounds. Nobody would see the stains if they were on the inside of the uniform, would they? She bit her lip in slight pain as she felt the sting again. It was a good sting. She had to keep telling herself it was a good sting, that it wasn't harming anything...

She looked up suddenly, and her heart fell. Of course, walking towards her once again was none other than that familiar bear captain. God damn it. Couldn't he ever leave her alone for once? She scowled inwardly, and his eyes met hers. Once again, it was that cold gaze, that soul-crushing stare. She knew she ought to be intimidated, but right now, she was just annoyed.

"What do you want, Captain?" she asked, working to keep her tone free of irritability. "Surely you have something better to do than stalk me around the fort."

"Wouldn't have to if ya weren't hiding something, alchemist," the man replied, coming to a halt in front of her. Karla's eyes narrowed. Buccaneer was blocking her path completely; with his size, it wouldn't be hard to do so. _Curse you for being so blasted big... _

"You think I'm hiding something?" she repeated. "For your information, I'm not. Even if I was, it's none of your concern." As if her body detected her lie, a twinge of pain rippled through her right arm after she spoke, and she quietly moved it behind her back and clamped her left hand over it.

Buccaneer tilted his head slightly, and she knew with dread he'd seen her action. Great. "If ya weren't hidin' something, ya wouldn't be so quick to hide your arm," he stated. Then, with a motion so quick it was practically fluid, he moved behind her and grabbed her aching arm, wrenching it out from behind her.

A low growl sounded from her throat, and her tone was deadly. "Let go of me, Captain."

"Ya think you're intimidatin' me? Think again, Red."

"I outrank you, Captain. Do well to remember that and _let me go." _

This earned a chuckle from him, much to her chagrin. "Since when does rank mean so much to ya? Seems it doesn't when it comes to the major general. Y're so eager to prove somethin' to her that ya forget your _own_ rank."

Karla bit her lip, but stood in silence. Damn it, as much as she hated to admit it, he was right, and she'd be a hypocrite for enforcing rank when she herself went against it so much. Buccaneer chuckled again and began walking, the young alchemist in tow. "Wait a minute," she said, practically running to keep up with him. "Where the hell do you think you're taking me?"

"Y're gonna show me what y're hiding," Buccaneer replied as they strode through the building and into the barracks. "If y're right and it isn't anything to worry about, then I'll leave ya alone."

He sealed the door behind them, and only then did he let go of her arm. She backed away from him as he turned towards her, and her heart began to pound fearfully in her chest. No, she did _not _want him to find out, she didn't want _anyone _to find out, but he was blocking the only way of escape. What was she supposed to do now?

"Take off that jacket." His voice sounded, rough and commanding, and her eyes widened. Wait, _what? _

"Excuse me?"

"Take off that jacket. I'm not gonna do anything to ya, I swear it. Besides, you've got your knife, right? I'm sure you could fight me off if I decided to do somethin' ya didn't like."

Karla hesitated for a moment, then undid her jacket, pulled it off, and tossed it onto the bunk next to her. Standing now in only her uniform pants and long-sleeved shirt, she kept her eyes locked on him, one hand poised at the ready over her knife should he make any sudden move towards her. Buccaneer took one step forward, and with one fluid motion, Karla unsheathed her knife and pointed it at him. She didn't like this situation one bit; she hated it, she absolutely hated it.

"Don't ya trust me?"

"Absolutely not. You've given me no reason to do so. Why should I trust someone I've barely spoken to?" She was ready to say she didn't trust anyone in this fortress, but that would have been a lie, and she knew it. She probably wouldn't have minded this situation so much if it had been Miles standing in front of her instead of Buccaneer, but that wasn't the case, and she was ready to defend herself as much as needed.

"Well, maybe we should introduce ourselves, then," Buccaneer said, sitting on one of the bunks close to her. "The name's Daitaro. Nice to meet ya."

An eyebrow raised. What in the world was he doing? Sweet-talking her? "Your strategy isn't going to work," she said, her blade still directed at him. "I'm not falling for it."

"Don't have one, Red." He patted a spot next to him. "Put that knife away and sit here. I'm not gonna pull anything, I promise."

Karla eyed him suspiciously. As far as she knew, he didn't have any actual weapons on him, but with his sheer size and automail, it would be enough to crush her if he wanted. Then again, he hadn't actually made any move to hurt her, so maybe... She slowly lowered the knife and sheathed it, cautiously approaching him and sitting on the bed next to him.

"There ya go," he said, moving over slightly so she had enough room to sit. "Trust me, if I wanted ya, I would've pinned ya down already. Now, let's start with your name. I know you've got one."

"Karla Ivanovna Chernikova," she replied, her slight Drachman accent sounding as she stared at him with a distrustful expression. "Why is this so important to you?"

"Ya gotta trust your soldiers," Buccaneer replied. "No use in havin' them if you're not completely sure they'll save your ass if ya ever need it. The first step in trustin' them is knowin' they're not hiding anything from ya." He looked up at her, his eyes filled with a total and absolute sincerity. "Right now, I think you're hiding somethin' from everyone. Can't have that if ya want us all to trust ya."

Karla blinked with a spark of understanding. That was true. She did want her fellow soldiers to trust her, regardless if she trusted them or not. After all, she did want to show everyone that she was more than just a half-breed. If they didn't trust her, she might as well go straight back to Central, or even back to Virnikov.

At the thought of her hometown, guilt ripped at her heart again, and she clenched her fists in her lap, trying to will it away. Damn it... Why wouldn't it go away? Why couldn't it leave her alone? She automatically moved her hand down towards her knife and pulled it out. She was about to pull her sleeve up and make a cut when she remembered where she was, who she was with. At the same time, she felt her wrist being grasped, and she looked up to see Buccaneer sliding her knife out of her hand. Her eyes narrowed, and she jumped to her feet, wrestling her wrist out of his grip.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded, backing away from him once more. "I didn't say you could touch me!"

"I wasn't trying to hurt ya!" Buccaneer shot back. "What the hell were you tryin' to do? I saw you pull that knife out!"

Karla felt rage begin to fill her, and she let out a frustrated yell. "You want to know what I'm doing that badly?" she exclaimed. "You really give a shit, Captain, as much as you say you do?" She threw her knife to the floor, where the blade stuck into the ground. Yanking up her right sleeve, she stormed toward him and thrust the inside of her arm towards him. Both fresh and dated cuts lined her flesh; some were scarring, others looked as if they were prepared to bleed at any moment. The shadows of blood rubbed off marred the paleness of her skin, covering some of her wounds. "Do you see that?" she demanded. "My guilt tears at me, and the face of my best friend remains in my head, haunting me! I have to do _something _to push it all away, and this is what it takes! You think you know a goddamn thing? Guess what? You don't, god damn it! You_ don't!_ And I -"

Whatever it was that she was about to say then was stopped as Buccaneer locked his grip around her injured arm. She was stunned into silence by his audacity – how _dare _he grab her again – and she looked up at him with furious eyes. He met her gaze with his own eyes – those damned eyes, how she hated them – and his mouth flattened into a firm line. "You think I don't know that feeling?" he growled. Karla nearly flinched at the deadliness in his tone. This man was not joking around. "You think I don't know the guilt that eats you, the faces of everyone you've ever killed revolving in your mind? You think I don't feel a damn thing? You're wrong, little girl. You could never be more wrong about anything in your entire life. I feel it. I feel it every single fucking day, and while I don't deal with it the same way you do -" he cast her arm aside – "I still deal with it. You know why? At the end of the day, you're still living. You've still got a country to defend, with citizens to protect. You do it for them, not for someone else, not even for yourself. You cannot afford to let yourself get weak, because you know why? If you're weak, the country is weak, and we can't have that." He stood from the bed and shoved Karla aside, heading for the door. Opening it, he turned back to look at her, as she glared up at him. "You'd better not have any new cuts on any part of you next time I see you. Otherwise, I'm telling the major general." Without waiting for a response, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Karla stared blankly after him for a moment, then turned and freed her knife from the floor, sheathing it. The captain's words, now reverberating in her mind, shamed her. He had treated her like nothing but a child, a child who had jumped into a well and now had no clue on how to get out. Instead of leaving the barracks to follow him, she sat on the same bed she had laid on once she'd gotten out of the infirmary, her knife clutched tightly in her left hand. Damn him... Damn everyone. _Damn me._

It had been four days since Captain Buccaneer's confrontation, as well as the last time Karla had cut herself. It seemed as if his threat to tell Olivier had been enough to keep Karla from injuring herself, but it hadn't been enough to quiet the demons in her heart and mind. Since Karla had stopped cutting, nightmares had begun to plague her, even worse than the ones she'd had while recovering in the infirmary. During the day, she saw Kyrie's face in her mind; during the night, she vividly relived Kyrie's death by her own hands. Over and over they repeated, multiple times, night after painful night. To say that it was driving her insane was an understatement.

_I can't take this anymore. I can't take the pain, the grief, the guilt... I want it to go away... I want to end it... _

Karla wanted her pain to end for good, and there was only one option left to do that: to die with it.

She'd planned it out from the first day she hadn't cut: when night fell, she would go out into the snow and end it there completely. Phase one of her plan was already complete; it was a few hours into nightfall, and as far as she knew, the other soldiers had gone to sleep, the officers in command included. Laying her hand on her sheath to reassure herself that her knife was still there, Karla crept silently through the fortress, wearing her white camouflage uniform. She didn't want to be rescued this time.

She made it outside, where the cold bit at her once more, an oh-so-familiar feeling. She walked through the snow, her footsteps sinking slightly, until she was a good ways away from the building. Once she was satisfied with the distance, Karla knelt on the ground, unsheathing her knife and pulling up both sleeves this time. She was going to be thorough and complete with this, and she was going to make sure that she didn't wake up. She raised her knife over her right wrist, ready to bring it down and cut. Tears filled her eyes as she stared down at her arm, and for a split second, she questioned herself. Did she really want to do this? Was it really worth it?

_It's worth it. I want this pain to end. I want to see Kyrie again... I want to tell her I'm sorry... _

Without another thought, she plunged the knife down, sawing into her wrist. Blood spattered as she did so, and unbearable pain seared through her body, causing her to let out a scream, but she kept going. As soon as she thought the cut was deep enough, she shifted her knife to her now barely-working hand and proceeded to clumsily cut open the other wrist. She cried out once more as her flesh was split again, her scream echoing through the night, and it wasn't until she'd lost all feeling in her right hand that she dropped the knife into the snow and collapsed completely.

The cold of the snow wrapped itself around her in a freezing embrace that was almost comforting. As she lay there, her blood flowed into the whiteness around her, staining it red. She closed her eyes, panting from the sheer agony of having so much exposed. She was dying; she knew it. She could feel her life draining out of her just as easily as her blood was doing, and hopefully, hopefully nobody would find her until the morning. She would be dead by sunrise, and her pain would be gone forever.

She could barely keep her eyes open now, and it was becoming laborious to keep breathing. She could feel the world spin around her despite the fact that her eyes were closed, and she knew that any minute now, she'd breathe her last breath and be lost to the world...

"Red!"

Wait... What was that?

"Alchemist! What do ya think you're _doing?" _

Oh, great... He'd found her... He was the last person she wanted to find her... but did it really matter now? After all, there was nothing more that he could do... He couldn't save her now.

She could feel his footsteps next to her suddenly, hear him panting slightly, but she couldn't open her eyes. Karla was growing more exhausted by the second, and oh, how she longed to just drop off to sleep...

"Damn it, Red, what did you _do?" _Buccaneer's tone was alarmed and... slightly panicked? That was odd for him... She felt her right arm being lifted up, and she cried out weakly from the pain of the wind suddenly hitting the wound. The next thing she knew, she was suddenly against something warm, being wrapped in something warm... what was going on?

"Captain...?" she weakly croaked.

"I'm not gonna let ya die out here," Buccaneer muttered to her. She could feel him moving; he was walking with her. Was he carrying her? "Y're not gonna go like this, understand? Ya don't deserve to go like this."

"It's too late," she murmured, her voice now a whisper. "I made it too deep to fix... You can't do anything..."

"I can't do anything, but the doctor sure as hell can," he replied. His voice was gruff as always, but... did she hear a wavering in there? Was he possibly about to cry, if he wasn't already? "You'd better stay alive for me, Red. Don't ya dare go off so easily. I want ya to come back fighting, understand?"

"I..." Karla suddenly lost the strength to keep herself awake, and the earthly sensations around her faded; the pain, the warmth, everything was suddenly gone.

_As it faded, Karla felt herself rise up to somewhere else. She didn't know where she was going, she didn't recognize it; everything was white, or was it faint gold? She had no idea. All she knew was that it was bright, bright and warm and enveloping and wonderful... _

"_Karla." _

_A gentle voice spoke her name, and she looked ahead of her to see the figure of the one whose face had pained her for the past several weeks. It was none other than Kyrie, looking as beautiful as she had the last time Karla saw her before she'd disappeared. She was standing in front of her, her entire being radiating a faint aura of gold, and a serene smile was gracing her lips. _

"_Kyrie?" she breathed. _

"_Karla, what are you doing here?" Kyrie asked, walking towards her. "You're not supposed to be here yet, my love..." _

"_What do you mean I'm not supposed to be here yet?" Karla echoed. "I... I had to see you again... I couldn't live with the guilt, it was tormenting me; I kept seeing your face..." She felt her eyes well with tears, and suddenly, she collapsed to her knees and began to sob. "I'm sorry, Kyrie, I'm so sorry... I didn't know it was you, I swear it, I wouldn't have done it if I'd known it was you; I didn't want to lose you again... I'm so sorry!" _

_She sat there crying for a moment, releasing everything she'd felt for the past month, until she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Kyrie next to her, looking down at her with that same gentle smile on her face. "Karla, I don't hate you," she replied. "You saved me. I was waiting to die, I was wishing and praying for it. Then we faced each other in battle. I wasn't going to kill you; I didn't want to. I'm sorry you were the one that had to kill me, but by doing it, you saved me. You released me from my imprisonment, and for that, I'm forever grateful to you." She knelt in front of the young woman, raising a hand and wiping the tears from her eyes. "You don't have to cry, my love. You don't have to feel guilty anymore. I never hated you. I could never hate you. I love you, Karla." _

_Hearing those words sent Karla's heart into a flurry of happy beating. "I... I love you, Kyrie," she said, looking into her best friend's eyes. "I miss you so much." _

"_You don't need to," Kyrie countered. "I've been watching you for a while now. I'll always be watching you until you're ready to be here, but right now, you aren't. You're too young; it's not your time, and it won't be for quite some years. You shouldn't leave the people in the living world to grieve over someone in the dead."_

_She took Karla's hand, and the two of them stood. "I'll be fine," Kyrie said. "You'll be fine as well. I know it. You're strong, stronger than I ever was. However, you need to rejoin the living. You're not coming back here until it's time." She laid a light kiss on Karla's head, then let go of her hand. "I'll be waiting, my love." _

_Before Karla could respond, the light dissipated along with Kyrie. She could feel herself falling out of wherever she was, back down, down, down... _

Karla's eyes slowly blinked open. She was back on Earth from... wherever she went, and she was lying on a bed. She took a bit to recognize her surroundings, but once she did, disappointment filled her. She was in the infirmary yet again. Her wrists felt a bit stiff and sore, and she raised her arms from the bed to discover that the wounds had both been stitched closed. She slowly looked around the room, her eyes scoping out the surroundings until they landed on the side of her bed. Sitting there were two of the last people she wanted to see right now: Captain Buccaneer and Major General Armstrong.

_Oh, shit._

"So, I see you've come back to join us, alchemist." Olivier's tone was as cold as cold could be, and it froze Karla to the point where she didn't look at her, instead staring down into her lap. "I want to know what the hell you were thinking. You honestly thought suicide would solve everything?"

"No," Karla replied softly, guilt over her actions instantly springing to sting her. "I don't... I don't know why I did it."

"I do." Olivier stood and began pacing next to the bed, her hands clasped behind her back. "You got scared. You were frightened after you killed her, and instead of facing and conquering the fear, you succumbed to it. You wanted to leave life behind because you became a coward, just as my brother wanted to leave the battlefield when he was most needed." She paused and turned to face Karla, who merely sat in shameful silence. "I have no need for cowards in my fort. You have crossed the final line. I'm sending you back to Central."

Those words stung. Those words stabbed Karla to the core of her very being. She had tried her hardest, and now all of that was wasted because of one stupid mistake. Now she was losing her place in Briggs, the one place where she had tried her best to be accepted. Now, it was back to square one for her.

"I'm sorry, Major General," she said, her gaze remaining in her lap.

"It's too late for that," Olivier snapped. "I've had enough of you. Captain Buccaneer will escort you to the North City train station. Once you're in Central, you're to report to Colonel Mustang. I've already sent him my report of you; he'll decide what to do with you from there. Now, get going."

With that, the officer departed the room, leaving Karla and Buccaneer in the most awkward silence of Karla's life. The young soldier swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, walking to the bathroom and changing from the hospital gown into her uniform. Her knife had been replaced back in its sheath, but right now, she made no move to withdraw it. Right now, she hated the thing. She cursed it as she left the bathroom, following Buccaneer out of the infirmary and out of the fortress itself. He didn't speak a word to her, and she said nothing to him. The two headed towards North City together, however both felt the same sort of isolation.

Three days later, Karla was back in Central, much to her despair. This time, she went straight to Central Headquarters, remembering where it was, and she barely spoke a word to anyone until she reached Colonel Mustang's office. When she knocked, it was only a short amount of time before his voice spoke, "Come in," and she entered, closing the door behind him and approaching his desk.

"Well, if it isn't Bleedingheart," he said once the two had saluted each other. "Having an enjoyable time in the north?"

"Not entirely, sir," Karla replied, her eyes locked on him. "Major General Armstrong sent me back."

"I can see that," the colonel remarked. "I have also received her last report on you. It said you attempted suicide because you are a coward who runs from the face of adversity." His tone was one of teasing, but Karla saw no humor here.

"I did, sir," she replied. She pulled up her sleeves and held her arms out to him, displaying the stitches on her wrists. "I don't know what I was thinking, sir, and I apologize. It won't happen again."

"That's all well that you're telling me this," Colonel Mustang said, "but have you told her? I certainly don't want to see you lose your place in the military because of something like this; I have a feeling you're better than that."

Karla was silent for a moment before she answered. "No, sir," she replied, pulling her sleeves back down in a slightly embarrassed gesture. "I don't wish to lose my position in the military. It was a really stupid choice of mine to try it. I'm not a coward, sir; in fact, I believe I'm the farthest thing from that."

The colonel chuckled, a smirk lifting his lips. "That's good," he said. "Keeping this between you and me, I think it was a rather stupid choice of Major General Armstrong's to send you back here. Central doesn't need another alchemist right now, while Briggs does. She's entrusted me with the task of reassigning you somewhere else, but, in fact..." He pulled a separate sheet of paper towards him and wrote something on it. "I _am_ reassigning you. Your new station is Fort Briggs, in the north."

The young alchemist blinked. Wait a minute... "You're going to send me back to where I just arrived from?" Oh lord, Olivier wasn't going to like this one. "Won't she do something about that, though? I mean, with all due respect, she's of higher rank than you, isn't she, sir?"

"She is, but Fuhrer Bradley doesn't want someone of your talents anywhere else. She's overruled there." Another chuckle sounded, and Karla figured he was doing this on purpose. He and Olivier must have had some sort of rivalry or something...

"You're going straight back there," Mustang continued, "and when you arrive, you are to give this directly to her, by order of the Fuhrer. He knows what she's like, and he prepared it in case she did ever send you back here." He held out an envelope, which Karla took. She was incredibly tempted to open it and read it, but she knew better than to do so.

"Yes, sir," she replied. "Am I to leave now?"

"By all means. Good luck, Bleedingheart; you're going to need it."


	12. Chapter 11: Learning a Soldier's Duty

_**A/N: At long last, another chapter. Forgive me for taking so long with this. I really have no excuse for this prolonged wait. I merely wanted to let everyone know I'm still alive, and yes, this fic is still being worked on for those who like it. I have learned I take forever to write fanfiction, and I am so sorry for keeping you all waiting. Please enjoy. 3**_

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><p>Chapter 11: Learning a Soldier's Duty<p>

"He _what?" _

Karla was standing in Olivier's office three days after her visit to Central. As Mustang had ordered her, she had gone directly to see the major general, and her reaction to seeing the misplaced alchemist was less than welcoming. Karla knew this would happen, but she had a nasty feeling that she wouldn't be the one to get the brunt of it.

"He reassigned me here, sir," she said automatically. She suddenly remembered the envelope, and pulled it out of her pocket. "He also gave me this and told me to give it to you, by order of the Fuhrer."

Olivier snatched it out of her hand with a grunt, then tore it open and read what was enclosed inside. "Damn that bastard colonel," she growled once she was finished. "I knew he would pull something like this on me, I _knew _it." She looked up at Karla just then, who nearly flinched. "Now, as for you, alchemist. I'm not believing for one instant that you're ready to come back and serve with us yet. I'm sending you to Virnikov for two months."

"Virnikov?" Well, that came out of nowhere, didn't it? "If I may ask, Major General, why Virnikov?"

"It's your hometown, isn't it?" Olivier's gaze was locked on her, and Karla felt like she was shrinking before her. Damn it, why did everyone here have looks that could kill? "I figured some time with family would help you get your head back on straight. Besides, in my opinion, you need some reminding of why you enlisted in the first place." Karla blinked. Olivier was willingly sending her away for some time off? That was all? That wasn't like her... "You are to leave as soon as I'm through with you. Hopefully, when you return, you'll be like you were before, all stubbornness and determination intact."

_All stubbornness and determination intact._ That was what she was, wasn't it? Before all the guilt and grief had begun to eat away at her, before her suicide attempt... "Don't worry, sir," she replied. "It won't happen again, I swear it to you. I won't endanger myself needlessly like that ever again. Forgive me."

"That's the attitude I want from you," said the major general. "Don't thank me for this opportunity, however. Captain Buccaneer was the one who suggested it. I don't understand it, but something about you has gotten to him. Him having to be the one to go and retrieve you was a shock to him. Now, get out of my sight. I don't want to see you for another two months."

Karla saluted her at this, and once her salute was returned, she departed the office. Olivier's words reverberating in her head as she retrieved her suitcase from the barracks and left the fort. Something about her got to Buccaneer? What the hell did that mean? Could the captain be interested in her? What in the world could be so interesting about her? He was a big, buff, muscled man who could probably have any woman he wanted; what was so special about her? Oh well, she was probably wrong anyway; he probably saw her somehow as some sort of daughter. That would be fine with her; it was a bit less weird than thinking he was attracted to her – not by much, though.

It only took her a relatively short amount of time to reach North City, and as soon as she was there, she set off for the train station. Luckily, there was a train that went directly to Virnikov, and even though not many people actually rode it, it was still running. Karla soon found herself on this train, and her heart truly leapt for the first time in weeks. She was going home, she was seeing her hometown, she was seeing her mother again... and for the first time in a month, she actually wanted to see them.

Some hours later, it was twilight, and the train was finally pulling into the Virnikov station. Karla was the only one on the train, and as she dismounted, she looked around the place. Now here was a sight she remembered. A year ago, standing here, waiting anxiously to go to North City... and yet she was back. She was back under decently positive circumstances, and she was already loving it. Now, to go straight home and see her mother. Hopefully she was still awake, otherwise Karla would have no way into the house. With that thought in mind, she left the station, eager to see her hometown once again.

What she saw outside devastated her, bringing her mood down to a negative.

Virnikov was all but destroyed. Buildings were broken and burned, bloodstains littered the snow, and she could make out figures of dead bodies all around the place. The town had been a victim of another Drachman attack, just as it always was... but every time it happened, it depressed her. It also made her burn with fury inside; the military could stop this, or at least help prevent it, but they never did a damn thing about it! Then she remembered... _Wait. I'm part of that military now. I haven't done anything to help this place either... _ Ouch. That was a sting on her fury.

She slowly walked through the town. She seemed to be the only one out and about; then again, she didn't blame the citizens for not wanting to leave their homes at nighttime. It was just too dangerous, since ambushes could happen at any time, especially at night when nobody would see. This thought made Karla walk faster; she really didn't want to have to deal with an attack right now. In a few minutes, however, she finally reached her house, which was luckily relatively unscathed. Her heart pounding, she knocked on the door and waited. What would her mother say when she saw her daughter on her doorstep?

It took a moment, but the door finally opened to reveal Liesel Chernikova, Karla's mother. Her light blonde hair was up in a bun, much like Karla's was, and her green eyes glistened with the light of a person who had seen many battles. However, once these eyes took in who was on her doorstep, they sparkled with delight. "Karla!" Liesel exclaimed, running out and embracing her in a hug.

"Hello, Mom," Karla replied, returning the hug while smiling. It had been far too long since she'd seen her mother, and until now, she hadn't realized how much she'd missed her.

Liesel ushered her into the house, where immediately she made her sit down on the couch in the living room. "Oh, goodness, Karla," she said, practically breathless with either relief, excitement, or both. "It's been so long. You never called me or wrote me... I thought you'd been killed."

_If it wasn't for Captain Buccaneer, I would have been. _"I'm sorry," Karla said. "I've been... adjusting to military life. It's quite pleasing, actually; I enjoy it."

"I figured you would, you're a very strict person." Liesel sat down on the couch next to her and gently began undoing her daughter's bun, causing her hair to fall down over her shoulders. "So, tell me: Are you out? Has a year been enough?"

Karla sighed. Her mother had never liked the idea of her going into the military, and now she knew that every day, her mother was hoping she'd come home for good. Unfortunately for Liesel, that day wasn't here yet, and most likely wouldn't be for a long time. "No, I'm not out yet," she replied. "I do get to stay for two months, though. My commanding officer ordered me to take the time off in order to... get my head on straight again." Oh, lord. Now Liesel was going to ask what she meant, and Karla would have to explain what had happened, and that wasn't going to end well.

"Oh, Karla. Did you get into trouble?"

Yes, here it was. Well, she couldn't blame her mother for being curious; after all, Karla hadn't bothered telling her anything while she was at the fort. "Not exactly," she answered. "I did but I didn't. You see..." Tears suddenly sprang into her eyes, and she impatiently wiped them away. Now was no time for crying. "We had to fight the Drachmans at the border, and... well... One of them was Kyrie. I found her, Mom, I found her, but I didn't know it until after the fact, because I... I had to kill her. I was ordered to take down as many as possible, and she was one of them. And then, after that, I... I attempted suicide." She could feel herself trying to withdraw, trying to put up walls in her mind, trying to shield herself from the dreaded outcome of her mother's fury. "The major general sent me back here after that because she said it would help clear my mind and get my priorities together. It was stupid of me to do that, it really was; I wasn't thinking, I didn't think about you or your reaction because I know you've already lost Dad and I don't think you could handle losing me too and -"

She was cut off suddenly by Liesel enveloping her in another hug, holding her close, practically clinging to her. "I'm sorry," Karla said, feeling a couple of tears run down her face. "I didn't mean to, I wanted to see Kyrie again, and I thought that by doing that I'd be able to, and... I'm sorry..."

"Shhh." Liesel began stroking Karla's hair, laying small kisses on the top of her head. "It's all right, Karla. I understand. I'm just glad you were rescued before anything worse could happen."

Karla pushed herself up from her mother's lap and looked at her, wiping the tears from her eyes again. "You understand?" she repeated.

"I do," her mother confirmed. "When I lost your father, I wasn't sure what I would do. Then you left the house for the military, and for the first time in many years, I felt lost and alone. However, I didn't let that get the best of me. I continued on; I knew I still had a duty to the town, and I've dedicated myself fully to it. I think about you two every single day, did you know that? I continued on with my life because I knew that would be the best thing for me to do. While it's been hard some days to get up, I still do it, because it's important for me to do so, especially in my new position." A smile cracked Liesel's face as she continued speaking. "The citizens here have started a defense force to fight against the Drachmans. I have been elected chief of it, and all command falls to me. It's to make up for there being no military presence here, and now Virnikov is under better protection than it ever has been."

Karla blinked. She'd always known her mother was strong – one would have to be in order to put up with her father and the difficulties that living with him would produce – but she'd never thought that something like this would happen. "Are you?" she asked a bit incredulously. "That's amazing. I'm proud of you, Mom."

"I'm proud of you as well," answered Liesel, smiling. "That also leaves me the task of deciding what to do with you, since you're technically the military presence here now. Your commanding officer is a blessing to us by sending you here. If it's all right with you, you will help the Virnikov Defense Force in protecting the town against the Drachmans. Their frequency of attacks has lessened slightly since we formed, but they still show up, unfortunately, so we need all the help we can get."

"That's all right, I'll do it," said Karla, a small smile on her own face. She would do anything to help out her hometown; she was a Virnikovian through and through, and she would likely always be one.

"That's what I wanted to hear," Liesel continued. "Tomorrow, there will be a town meeting, where I will make everyone aware of your presence here. Two months, yes? We can work with that. Tonight, though, you should get some sleep. We have many things to do tomorrow."

The next morning, Karla woke to sunlight drifting in through her window. She had slept in her old bedroom; Liesel had kept it clean and tidy, much to Karla's delight and approval. Instead of getting up immediately much as she'd done for the past year, today she took the liberty of lying in bed for a little longer despite the fact that she was awake. It was like she was sixteen again, having nothing better to do on a day like today except lay in bed. Lord, it was peaceful. This was already shaping up to be a lovely break from everything.

A knock on the bedroom door suddenly sounded, and she sat up and answered, "Come in." The door opened to reveal Liesel, already fully dressed with a cup of coffee in her hand. Karla could easily tell that the Defense Force had put together their own uniforms; her mother was dressed in a tight-fitting long-sleeved blue shirt, a pair of tight black pants, tall leather boots, gloves, and a long coat.

"Good morning, Karla," she said, smiling. "I was wondering when you'd wake up; it's already noon. For a soldier, you sleep quite a bit."

"I'm sorry." Karla slid out of bed and stretched, her muscles loosening in appreciation. "What should I wear today? My military uniform or...?"

"No, I have something that will suit you much better for these couple of months," Liesel replied. "Come with me and I'll show you."

She led Karla into the living room, where a neatly-folded pile of clothes was sitting on the couch. Karla's eyes widened as she picked it up; it was her own Defense Force uniform, complete with coat. "How in the world?" she asked.

"I made it last night after you went to bed," her mother said. "The only thing missing is the boots, which I'm sure your military boots will suffice. Since I know how much you enjoy wearing skirts, I changed the pants into a long skirt, which will still provide you easy movement because of the way I made it."

Karla looked from her back down to the clothes she was holding. So her mother had gotten no sleep last night because she was too busy making these for her daughter... "Mom, I... You didn't have to do this," she said. "I could have just worn my uniform, it would've been all right..."

"Oh, no, it's fine," Liesel replied. "It's the least I could do. Now, go change into it while I make breakfast. We have to leave soon."

Karla nodded and carried the clothes back to her room, where she quickly changed into them. To her surprise, the clothes fit her virtually perfectly, and the skirt had a long slit up both sides so her legs could move easily without being restricted. She had pulled on a pair of black leggings underneath to keep from freezing her legs, and her military boots were on her feet. She approved of the uniform; it was lighter than her military one, but it would do just as well, she thought.

Once she was finished dressing, she went to the kitchen, where Liesel was preparing a light breakfast. "How do I look?" Karla asked.

Liesel looked up and smiled, her eyes scoping down Karla's figure and back up. "It looks perfect," she replied. "Now you're just like one of us. I figured it would look better for the people if you showed up wearing our uniform rather than the military's. They don't put much trust in the military, understandably, and neither do I, for that matter."

Karla bit her lip, both in sympathy and in shame. When she was younger, she'd shared Virnikov's majority view of the military: nothing but scum who didn't give a shit about anyone but themselves. Now that she was _in _the military, however... that viewpoint was changed. She no longer saw the military as nothing; in fact she saw them as servants of their country, which was really what they were, her included. "Do they know I'm a state alchemist?" she asked.

"Some of them do, others don't," Liesel replied. "I'll tell everyone at the meeting, if you'd like. They're going to have to know you're from the military anyway. I am not lying to these people."

"I didn't ask you to," Karla countered. With that serious tone her mother used, she knew that Liesel placed absolute trust in her people. That was something good... and Captain Buccaneer's lesson sprung to mind once more. _Ya gotta trust your soldiers. No use in havin' them if you're not completely sure they'll save your ass if ya ever need it. _Seemed as if that situation applied in more than just the military... "You can tell them I'm a state alchemist if you want. I'm not entirely sure how they'll take it, because a lot of them don't like me anyway, but there's no use hiding anything from them. If you trust them, I trust them."

It was only a while later that Karla and Liesel had left the house, and now they were walking towards the town hall. Since Virnikov had been ravaged and destroyed so much, the size of it had dwindled significantly, and virtually everything that was still around was within walking distance. The need for cars no longer existed, since everyone had rebuilt their homes close together. Once they had reached their destination, Liesel stood on the steps in front of the building. "Citizens of Virnikov!" she shouted powerfully. "The Virnikov Defense Force is now hosting a town meeting! It is of great importance that you all attend!"

"Does that seriously work?" Karla asked, looking around. Sure enough, within a few minutes, the citizens began to swarm around the town hall, or rather, the few that were left. Karla didn't know how many there were, but she knew there were at least a hundred, which was a rather shocking amount compared to the amount of people that were left when she departed last year. She quickly darted up the steps to stand next to her mother and look out among the crowd. She could spot several Defense Force members, but none of them looked even vaguely familiar. It had been too long since she'd last visited...

"Citizens of Virnikov!" Liesel began again once everyone had gathered and quieted. "Today is an important day. Today is the day we shall start rebuilding what the Drachmans destroyed two days ago, and we will make our forces even stronger. Also, the Virnikov Defense Force now has a new member, a state alchemist from the Amestrian military." At this, the crowd began to murmur, and Karla saw that some of them looked furious. This was going to be interesting, wasn't it?

"She will hold this position for two months," Liesel continued, commanding attention from everyone once more. "It is about time we've had someone from the military here, even if only temporarily, and we will show her what it is really like for those of us living here these days! We shall not be ignored by the military any longer!" The crowd cheered, a loud roar that echoed through the area. "I introduce my daughter, Karla Ivanovna Chernikova!" Karla bowed briefly, and the crowd roared again. "For the time being, she will be my second in command. Members of the Defense Force will listen to her orders with just as much respect as they listen to mine. We will be a force to be reckoned with! When Drachma attacks again, they will not remain unscathed!"

Karla watched her mother speak with pride as the crowd once again roared their approval. She was impressed that Virnikov had built a force of their own with traditions of their own, with rarely any contact from the rest of the country. She had no idea how Liesel had become so influential in the community so quickly, but she was proud. Now this was the kind of woman she wanted to be: strong in their intentions, determined, unbreakable.

"I discussed the rebuilding plans with the Force yesterday," Liesel continued. "They will direct you all in groups to what needs to be done. Away with you!"

As the crowd began to disperse, Liesel looked to her daughter. "That went well," she commented. "The town approves. Now, if you'll follow me, my dear, we have work to do."

As the weeks went by, Karla had relearned what it was like to be home. Her days were being spent helping her mother rebuild the town and overall manage what went on, and she was enjoying it. She made a mental note to find Captain Buccaneer when she got back to Briggs and thank him for convincing Olivier to send her on this vacation. As she'd worked, her reasons for joining the military had become fresh in her mind. She wasn't just doing it for herself, and she wasn't even doing it for one reason. It was a multitude of reasons, bringing her father back into the country only being one of them. She was in the military to help her country, to fight and defend the citizens within, and that was an important thing for her to remember. Without this vacation, she probably would never have thought of anything in this new, refreshed way whatsoever. Her brief encounter with Kyrie in the afterlife – for that was what she had determined it was – was enough to stem her guilt over ending her best friend's life, and now she had a new purpose: to devote herself entirely to her military in whatever way they saw fit.

Now, however, she was sitting on the bed, her small lamp casting a shadowy glow around the room. It was nighttime, and she was staring down at her wrists. The stitches in them were still as clear as day, but for once, Karla didn't curse them. They served as a reminder, as battle scars, so to speak. They were a reminder of what she had been through already, and of what she had gone through to get to this point. Sure, they weren't obtained in an all-that-honorable way, but nevertheless, they were there to stay. She felt an odd sense of pride as she brushed a thumb over one of her wrists. She was a survivor.

The light flickered suddenly, breaking Karla's concentration. Her head shot up as she instantly tensed in defense. She was definitely not used to the flickering power anymore. It was a semi-regular occurrence in Virnikov; when Karla had gone to Briggs, she hadn't had to worry about it since it never happened there. The lightbulb flickered a couple of more times, and a crackling suddenly sounded as the room was plunged into darkness. She sighed. "So, the power issue here hasn't been resolved yet," she muttered to herself. Then again, how could it? The citizens here were in poverty; the town barely functioned as it was. Any normal person would have questioned how they could live so long, especially when the conditions were as terrible as they currently were... and Karla's answer was none other than determination. If someone was determined enough, any situation could be made livable.

A sudden shout from outside caught her attention once more, and the sound of gunshots rang through the air. Karla darted to her window and peered through the blinds. Due to the fact that the town was bathed in the dark of night, she couldn't see much other than faint figures running around and the occasional flame of a bullet leaving a gun. Her eyes narrowed, and she quickly departed her room, grabbing her knife off the table next to the door on her way.

"Karla!" Liesel was holding a candle in the hallway; she was dressed in her Defense Force uniform with her hair a mess around her shoulders. "I was just about to get you. Let's go; Drachma's sent another group after us, and we need you!"

A slight growl sounded from Karla's throat as she muttered, "That's what I thought." She moved past her mother, blowing out the candle as she went, and left the house. Luckily, she was already clothed in her own uniform, having never changed after the day's events.

The symptoms of a building blizzard were rampant around her, and the screaming of Virnikov's citizens was ringing in her ears. She took off running into what she thought was the direction of the attack, and just narrowly avoided a bullet directed at her. She ducked behind a tree next to someone else, identity unknown to her.

"You all right?" The voice that spoke told her it was a male, probably around her own age. "Didn't get you?"

"I'm fine," Karla whispered, her voice a whisper as she peered around the trunk.

"Good," the boy said. She heard him rustle slightly, probably pressing his back against the tree. "Who in the world attacks at night?"

"Cowards," she replied, her eyes adjusting themselves to the darkness. "They probably thought it was an absolutely brilliant idea, but it wasn't. Now quiet, or else they'll hear you."

"What do you have planned?" her companion asked, his voice remaining the same volume.

"When we see one of them, we launch an ambush." Karla was getting more and more impatient; didn't he listen to what she'd just said? Was he as idiotic as their attackers? "If there's more than one, that's even better. Now, will you shut up? Or at least drop down to a whisper? We want to surprise _them_, not the other way around!"

"Okay, sorry," he replied, whispering in response. "You act like you're from the military or something."

"That's because I am," Karla replied. She suddenly saw a figure walking around in front of the tree, a gun poised and ready to fire. From the looks of it, it was a Drachman. She smirked in delight. "There's one in front of us. When I tell you, you take his right, I've got his left. Understand?"

"Sure," the boy whispered. Karla continued to observe the soldier, and once his back was turned, she nudged her companion.

"Now!"

The two leapt out from behind the tree at the soldier. The boy grabbed his arms and wrenched them behind his back, and Karla unsheathed her knife with a whirl and cut the soldier's throat. She felt the warmth of his blood splatter onto her and said, "Let him go; he's done for."

"That was pretty awesome," her companion remarked as she knelt on the ground, pulling her sleeve up.

"Do you have any source of light?"

"Oh, yeah." A match lit, cutting through the darkness slightly, and she looked up to see her companion's appearance. His hair was black, framing around a slightly oval-shaped face with brown almond eyes. "What do you need this for?"

She didn't respond, but dipped her fingers into the blood around the soldier's throat and drew a transmutation circle on her arm. Once she had enough, she pressed her hand to it, transmuting a small dagger that looked incredibly plain next to her main one. "That's good enough," she muttered, gripping it in her right hand and standing up. She blew out the small flame and looked up at the boy.

"That's pretty awesome, too," he said. "My name's Lucien."

"Karla Chernikova," she replied. "We can save the introductions for later."

The two of them continued their trek through the town, sneaking stealthily behind trees and buildings whenever there was a danger of them being seen. A few times, Karla had to end up saving her companion's life, because he seemed especially prone to just walk right out in the open. Lord, was Lucien a total idiot? He should know that the slightest misstep would very possibly send both of them to their graves. Luckily – or perhaps unluckily – there didn't seem to be anyone around to catch them...

A short span of time later, possibly an hour, possibly even a few minutes, the two had been separated. Karla had concealed herself behind a tree, and since it was now the darkest time of the night, she had no idea where Lucien had gone. She found herself praying that he was all right; he was a civilian, and it was her job to protect him, even if he was a bit idiotic about how he was doing this. "Lucien?" she called out, her voice a loud whisper. Hopefully no enemy soldiers were close enough to hear her.

"Karla?" The responding whisper broke the moment of silence that had followed the alchemist's, and she sighed with relief. Good, he was still alive. She definitely didn't feel like having his death on her conscience as well. "Karla, where are you?"

"Across from you," she whispered back. "Keep your ears sharp. It's the darkest part of the night; we won't be able to see them."

"Got it."

Karla looked around, straining her eyes to see through the darkness. She could just barely make out figures standing a fair distance from her, but whether they were friendly or not was a distinction that was completely out of the question right now. What was she going to do? She couldn't just walk up and ask who they were; that would be suicide. _Better to observe and see what happens, if anything, _she decided. _If they start coming at me, that's when I'll attack._

"Karla!" Lucien's voice suddenly echoed out in the silence, and she barely had time to look over her shoulder before she was being tackled face-first into the snow. The sound of a bullet shooting from a gun sounded over her head, followed by a masculine grunt. A warm body collapsed on top of her just then, pushing her deeper into the snow, and she clawed her way out from beneath it, her heart racing.

"Lucien?" she asked, turning the body over carefully. In response, her hand was suddenly grasped in trembling fingers, being moved to a spot on the chest.

"They were... they were gonna get you," the boy replied, his voice hoarse with what Karla could only identify as pain. "Saw them... they had a gun pointed at you..."

"Oh, God, Lucien," she muttered as she gripped the fabric of his shirt, feeling it was wet with blood. "Why did you do that, you idiot? You could have snuck up behind them... you could have run away... you could have done something that wasn't _this!"_

"Couldn't let them..." His breath sounded in short pants, and his grip on Karla's hand was weakening now. "Couldn't let them hurt a pretty girl... I'm a gentleman... you know?" He attempted a chuckle, but all that sounded was a groan and pained coughing. "Karla... will you... stay with me?"

"What?" He couldn't be giving up already, could he? "You'll be all right, just hold on a bit longer, someone will find us, I promise."

"Can't." His voice was nothing but a whisper. "Just... stay with me. It's easier that way..."

"Lucien, no. Stop talking like that. I'm not going to let you die!"

There was no answer after that. Karla would have thought he'd merely fallen asleep if she hadn't known better, and unfortunately for her, she did: Her companion was dead, killed saving her life. As her surroundings were starting to fill with the light of the dawn, she clenched the fist that held his shirt angrily. She glanced over at his face, which was filled with simultaneous fear and worry. His eyes were closed as if he was sleeping, merely having a nightmare. Karla resisted the urge to shake him, to try and wake him, for she knew it would be in vain; instead she stood, turning away from his body. Another death... another one she couldn't save.

_I'm completely worthless, aren't I? _

Sudden approaching footsteps broke her out of her reverie, and she looked up to see her mother coming towards her, followed by three of her warriors. "Karla!" Liesel exclaimed, her pace quickening into a run. "Oh, god, you're alive! I was worried they'd caught you!"

The alchemist sheathed her knife, tossing her dagger into the snow. "I'm fine," she replied. "Glad to see you are as well. Has the attack ended?"

"Yes," answered Liesel. "It's not without its casualties, however. We killed several soldiers, but some of our own were killed in the process. About five in my group are dead, and I don't know what happened to Alexandra Feigenbaum. We haven't found her body, so I don't think she's dead, but she isn't anywhere in this town anymore."

"If her body isn't around, then the soldiers probably captured her," Karla said, stepping away from Lucien's body slightly. "She'll be taken to Drachma, like Kyrie was before her." The words were spoken with difficulty, as if she didn't want to face the fact that Kyrie had been taken from her. _I should be over that. It happened so long ago._

"What about your group, alchemist?" one of Liesel's companions asked. "Were you all taken out?"

"I did not have a full-fledged group. Only one citizen managed to find me, and you see the results before you." She stepped completely out of the way of the boy's body and gestured to it. "His name was Lucien. He died protecting my blind spot. He covered me, for a Drachman tried to shoot me. He got in the way."

The man glanced at Liesel. "You trust her?"

"Of course I do!" her mother exclaimed indignantly. "She is my daughter; why the hell wouldn't I? What would killing him herself benefit her? We're all on the same side, Vincent. You'd do well to remember that." She turned her attention back to Karla. "If he was your only casualty, then there's at least six in total for us, unless we're counting Alexandra among them. We're done here. Drachma has retreated. They'll be leaving us alone for a while." Liesel turned to Vincent again, her back to Karla. "Call the recovery team out. Tell them the battle's over. Karla! You and I are leaving."

"Yes, ma'am," Vincent replied, sending a distrustful look at Karla. As the alchemist made to follow her mother, he caught her by the arm.

"What?" she demanded, resisting the urge to shove him away.

"You'd better be telling the truth," he hissed into her ear. "Otherwise... well, I'm not as forgiving as your mother. You're that bastard Chernikov's daughter. I haven't forgotten that."

"I'm also a soldier of the military," Karla muttered back at him. "You'd do well to remember that. _Idiot."_ The last word was muttered in Drachman, and Vincent quickly let go of her. She ran to catch up with her mother, leaving her followers behind her.

"Mother, let me ask you something," said Karla, looking over at her as they walked. "What in the world is Vincent's problem?"

Liesel said nothing at first, instead sighing. "Vincent... is a very jealous man. When we were younger, our parents had arranged for us to marry. His family is – well, _was_ is the more proper word – the most well-off in Virnikov for some time. Of course, they were hit hardest when the town collapsed. But, back then, it was the easiest way to set me up into a good life, a stable life. It also helped that he liked me, and I liked him in return."

"For what, his money?" Karla's tone was teasing, and as they paused at the door to Liesel's house, she raised an eyebrow as her mother turned to her.

"Karla, I am not that shallow," she said in amusement. "No, not for his money. He was far more relaxed back then. However, some time after that, your father showed up. What I felt then could be shortly explained as _instant attraction._ Vanya convinced me that marrying Vincent was the easiest way to locking me into what my parents decided for me, not what I decided. So, I called it off and ended up marrying your father instead. Vincent didn't like that at all, and... well, now you see him as he is."

Her daughter nodded. She understood. It was a case of man vs. man, fighting for the affection of a woman. _Such a shallow reason to dislike someone._ "So, it's not just that Father was Drachman. It was also because he stole you from him."

"That's right. Oh well, though; there's no changing him now. Come on, you and I have things we need to discuss."

The two went into the house, and once changed, proceeded to begin a conversation about the night's events, as well as where the town would be left after that. Liesel was convinced that Drachma wouldn't bother them for some time, but Karla had her doubts. She had a strong feeling that since Drachma now knew that there was military presence in the town, they wouldn't hesitate to bring more forces as soon as they could, since technically Virnikov was now under official militant protection. She also had no doubt that if, or more likely when, they came back, Alexandra would be forced to fight for them. Her life would end up having to be taken, whether by a citizen or by military forces, and Karla did not like the sound of that whatsoever. She'd already killed someone who was once on her side; she wasn't a fan of the idea of having to do it again.

"Mother, please don't get yourself killed," she said at one point. "I already have one parent gone. I don't need the other one dying as well."

"Don't worry so much about me, Karla," Liesel replied. "I don't plan on having the battlefield be my deathbed. I've lived this long against them, and I'll live even longer. I'm going to die an old woman, I promise you."

A week later, Karla's time in Virnikov had ended, and now, she found herself back in Briggs, standing in front of the major general's desk. The journey back had been shorter than she'd realized, and for once, she hadn't been jumped at the border of the fort. At least the soldiers had recognized her this time.

"So. You've returned." Olivier's voice was casual yet commanding as she stared at the soldier over clasped hands, elbows propped on the surface of the desk. "You didn't decide to run away as soon as I sent you. That's good; that's what I like to see in my soldiers. However, that isn't my greatest concern." Her eyes narrowed as if to challenge Karla to speak; Karla, for once, stayed silent, her own gaze zeroed in on her commanding officer. "My greatest concern is whether I've wasted my time. Whether I've wasted my time sending you away, whether it was a waste of time bringing you back. Whether I've wasted my time accepting you back in the first place. Whether it was stupid to accept you in my fort at _all_, after what you decided to pull two months ago. Now, Chernikova... _are you a waste of my time or not?"_

"No, sir," Karla replied, only slightly intimidated. There was no way in hell she was a waste of _anyone's_ time. "I have my head on straight now, sir, I promise you. I know why I'm here, and I know why I chose to serve. You have my undying loyalty."

"Words are nice, but you'll have to prove that." Olivier leaned back in her seat. "Now. Virnikov. Took it easy there, did you?"

"No, sir," the soldier repeated. "Some time after I arrived, Drachma sent some forces to attack. I assisted the Virnikov Defense Force in fighting them off, and at least six of the citizens were killed. I spoke to the chief afterwards and advised her to be on the lookout even more than she already was, for Drachma now knows there was a military presence there."

"They're liable to attack it again, this time in greater numbers," Olivier stated, echoing Karla's earlier thoughts. "How big is this Defense Force? It's composed of civilians, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir. There are about twenty or thirty in it."

"Who is the chief? The one in charge?"

"Liesel Chernikova, sir. My mother. You have no need to worry about her loyalty, though; she is full-Amestrian."

The major general sighed, looking contemplative for a moment. "I'll have to have correspondence with this Liesel. Had I known exactly about Virnikov's state before, I would have had it covered already. Is she opposed to military presence?"

"No, sir. The citizens are, though. They didn't like me there, and I don't think they'll like anyone else that is sent out there."

"I don't give a damn about impressing the citizens. I care about protecting them. They'll have soldiers out there whether they like it or not. Now, get out of my sight, alchemist."


	13. Chapter 12: The Alchemist and the Bear

_**A/N: Told you all I was still working on it. Heh. Anyway... yes. This chapter is shorter compared to the others. I also had to do a bit of an awkward time skip since I discovered I planned the timeline wrong, and it's a bit too far in to fix right now. Despite that... I hope you enjoy!**_

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><p>Chapter 12: The Alchemist and the Bear<p>

A year had passed since Karla's visit to Virnikov. She had heard no word from her mother on the state of her hometown, nor had she heard anything from Olivier herself on what was going on. She had had no desire to ask, however; she was of such minor rank compared to her commanding officer, and certainly wasn't in Olivier's inner circle, so she deemed herself still too unimportant to know those little details. The fort itself had gone a surprisingly long time without being attacked, which was both relieving and a little boring. At least a battle would shake up the monotonous routine a bit. At the same time, Karla was thankful she hadn't had to go into the front lines. The thought of killing another human was still able to shake her up a bit, make her nervous, even make her depressed.

Today, however, was a day unlike any other. Normally, her birthday would go by uncelebrated, especially now that she was in the military. She hadn't celebrated it last year, and quite frankly, it being uncelebrated was a choice she herself made. Karla had never really seen the point of celebrating birthdays; they just marked another year older, another year closer to death. The fact that she had even made it to nineteen up here honestly shocked her. She had intended to continue about this day as if it was any other day until she'd seen the short note left on her pillow at some point when she had been out of the barracks.

_Theres a little bar on the outskirts of north City, on the way to the fort. Once yer done with yer shift, meet me there. You aint gonna forget this year. – B_

Karla had found herself curious about just who had left this here. She'd never seen anyone's handwriting up here except Olivier's, and hers was impressively recognizable. This hadn't been it. Who in the world had had the audacity to invite her out in a _note?_ It had probably been one of the soldiers of lower rank, someone she'd never even talked to. She'd really had no interest in going out, even though she had known when she would officially be off the clock, but she'd figured that she would go anyway, just to be nice. She really had to start being nicer to the soldiers around here. She wasn't the alpha bitch, Olivier was, and everyone knew it.

It had taken her around an hour to reach the bar mentioned in the note. From the outside, it looked surprisingly well-kept despite it being virtually in the middle of nowhere. Why a bar would even _be _here was only one of the questions she had. The note crumpled in her hand, she pushed open the door and entered, looking around. The place was actually rather nice-looking, as if whoever owned it was proud to own it, and always wanted to keep it clean at the very least. She let her gaze sweep around the bar's inside; there were only a few people in here, but only one was looking back at her.

Karla rarely cursed as strongly as she did just then. "What the _fuck?"_ she exclaimed, startled. Sitting up at the bar by the bartender, staring at her with a smirk on his face, was none other than Captain Buccaneer.

"Hey there, Red!" he greeted as she walked over to him. He patted a bar stool next to him. "Was hopin' you'd turn up!"

She sat on the stool he offered, staring at him with what she was certain was a completely dumbfounded look. "What are you doing here?" she demanded after a moment. "I'm supposed to be meeting someone – wait a minute." She unfolded the note in her hand, read it over again, then looked up at him again. "This is your handwriting, isn't it? You wrote this, you left it on my bed... You're the one I'm supposed to be meeting here!"

"I was wonderin' when you'd figure it out," Buccaneer replied, his smirk returning. "Surprised ya didn' sooner."

"I was a bit occupied earlier," Karla retorted. "So, tell me, Captain: Why did you have me come all the way out here?"

"It's yer birthday," the captain answered. "Knew ya weren' gonna do anythin' for it, so I decided to instead. Besides, there's no harm in havin' a drink or two together."

The alchemist slowly nodded. Right. A drink or two. She was actually rather unsure of his motive. Karla rarely drank – she knew she couldn't handle alcohol very well. It would be easier to get her drunk than it would be to get her out on the front lines. Was he trying to get under her skin or something?

"I suppose there isn't," she said after a moment, sticking the note in her pocket. "I didn't think this was normal for soldiers to do."

Buccaneer waved down the bartender and ordered drinks for the two of them, then turned to face her. "Nah, it isn'. Not really. I mean, sometimes a bunch of us'll come down here for a few, especially when we've all got time t' waste, but other than that... Just somethin' special I wanted t' do."

She nodded once more. Good lord, how was she supposed to _interact _with him? Sure, he was lower in rank than she was, but he was so much bigger, so much _older..._ How was this supposed to work? The drinks arrived in front of them after a moment, and she glanced over at her companion. "Out of curiosity, how old are you?"

The captain chuckled, lifting his glass and draining it with an air of expertise. Obviously he'd done this a lot. "The fact that ya still focus on age shows me just how young ya are. 'M thirty-nine."

Her eyes widened slightly. She'd known he was older than her, but she hadn't thought the difference would be _that_ large. "And you're taking an innocent young girl out for drinks? Captain, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were preying on me. I'm sure that is what regular people would think if they saw this."

Karla met his gaze, and a moment of silence passed between them as she took a sip of her alcohol. The taste was strange, but not bad. Certainly not what she'd expected it to taste like... It was strangely fruity, as if there was no alcohol content at all. Suddenly, he let out a booming laugh. "Ah, Red, I like ya. Y're one funny woman. Ain't nobody in here innocent, not even you." He looked down at the contents of her glass, and his smile disappeared. "Bartender! The fuck ya think y're doin'?"

With a huff, the bartender walked over, leaning on the counter in front of them. "Is there a problem?"

"Yeah, there's a damn problem!" Buccaneer exclaimed. "When I said 'the usual,' I meant f'r me! The fuck ya givin' her Xingese Golden for?"

"What's wrong with that?" Karla interjected. "I like it."

"Red, Xingese Golden's potent. Don' taste like regular alcohol, so ya always drink more than ya realize. Didn' want ya havin' that, but _some dumbass _decided he did."

Karla wanted to laugh. Oh, she could feel the urge building up in her throat as she listened to the captain's rambling. Was he afraid she wouldn't be able to control herself? She had more control of herself when it came to alcohol than anyone else she knew. She was pretty sure she could handle herself.

As the bartender moved to take her glass, she stopped him, covering the mouth with her hand. "Leave it," she ordered. As Buccaneer looked at her questioningly, her eyes narrowed, and she smirked. "I have an idea. Since we're here, and it _is_ my birthday... Why don't you and I have a little contest, Captain?" Right, this was probably a _terrible_ idea. "A drinking contest. First one to end up on the floor loses."

Buccaneer returned her smirk after a moment, and right then, she had a feeling she wasn't completely sure just what she'd gotten herself into. Of course, she also knew she was going to end up losing, and that was something she definitely didn't want happening. "Y've got yourself a challenge, alchemist," he replied. "We'll need the bottle for this one."

The bartender let go of Karla's glass, and as he went to get the bottle, she downed her drink easily. She smirked over at the man again, daring him to take another. Indeed, when the bottle showed up, he poured himself another serving and drained it once more.

This cycle went for at least an hour, and Karla learned something about herself very quickly: when she got drunk, she got _drunk,_ turning incredibly loud and flirtatious. As she lowered herself more and more into inebriation, she found herself moving closer to the captain, brushing the muscles of his arms with her fingers and making not-so-subtle passes at him. In the end, the counter in front of them was littered with glasses, the bottle empty. She was slouched over the surface, staring up at Buccaneer in a woozy but wonderful haze, giggles escaping her.

"So... who wins?" she asked, her speech slurred, one hand gripping her latest glass. It was still half-full, and she pushed herself upwards only to fall forward again.

"I think y've had enough," he replied, chuckling. He didn't seem even the slightest bit buzzed when compared to her. "Y've had six and a half already."

"No," she countered, pushing herself back up into a sitting position again. Draining the glass, she threw it back onto the counter, where it rolled off behind and shattered. "Seven." She laughed wildly, gripping the edge of the counter so she wouldn't fall off the bar stool. "S'there more?"

"Y're done," Buccaneer repeated. "They only keep one bottle here. Otherwise, _everyone_'d end up like you." He laughed as he stood up, and Karla watched him for a moment as he turned and began walking away. Wait... Who did he think he was? Where was he going? There was no way in hell she'd let him leave yet.

"Get back here!" she cried at him, shakily getting up and stumbling toward him. "I'm not done with you!" He paused and turned to face her just in time for her to reach him, and soon, he was pinned against the wall.

"Red, the hell're ya doin'?" he asked, his tone simultaneously amused and exasperated. Karla didn't take note of that, however, as she pressed herself against him so he couldn't escape. He was massively taller and larger than her, which she was sure made them look strange together, but she didn't care. She wanted one thing, and damn it all, she was going to get it.

"You think you're leaving already?" she crooned, her hands running over his sides, finding their way to his waist. "I wanna have fun with you. I like a man with muscle, you know." She looked up at him, her expression one of pure want, pure lust, and her fingers gripped at his shirt. He met her gaze, surveying her.

"Red, y' ain't in yer right mind."

"Yes, I _am."_ Her tone was insistent, for her body had finally caught up with what her mind was plotting, and a flame of desire had sparked within her. "Captain, don't be cruel to me."

"Red..." A sigh.

"Buccaneer..." Another, though this came out more as a pleading moan.

The captain gripped her wrists, moving them away from his waist. It seemed to Karla that that moan of hers was enough to spark something inside him as well, for he let out a low growl as he stared at her. "Wasn' gonna do this," he muttered. "Was gonna wait til ya wanted it..."

"Get that stick out of your ass," she countered, her voice just as low as his. "Never wanted anything more than I do now."

That mere sentence was enough to get the pair of them moving, Buccaneer instantly taking her to a staircase hidden behind the shelves of alcohol. "There're rooms up here," he said to her. "'S an inn as well as a bar."

Karla never thought she could move as fast as she did, and soon enough, they were in a room together, her on the bed, him locking the door behind him. Her heart pounded in her chest with anticipation and excitement for what was to come. Soon enough, he was looming over her, his lips at her neck, sending shocks of ecstasy through her.

The alchemist laid sleepily in the bed, the sheets covering her naked form as pure satisfaction flowed through her. Whether she was sore or not, she didn't know, and potential consequences for this? Completely out of her mind. Next to her lay the captain, who looked just as relaxed as she felt. As she looked over at him, the memory of what they'd just done – multiple times – flashed through her thoughts, and they were vivid enough to nearly bring her to orgasm again. She groaned, turning over and draping an arm across his chest. His muscles were firm against her, and she absentmindedly traced them with a finger.

"There is no way in hell we're going back to the fort tonight," she murmured, chuckling.

"Course not," Buccaneer replied. "It's the middle of the night. Everything's locked up." He stroked her hair, running his fingers through it easily. Karla closed her eyes, letting the sensation soothe her into a state of semi-consciousness.

"Ya know, I've wanted this for a while." The captain's voice caught her attention after a few minutes of silence, and she raised her head slightly.

"Really?"

"Mmm, yeah. Never wanted t' tell ya, though. Figured it'd go away on its own."

She wanted to believe she was dreaming. She had to be. No man had ever shown interest, romantic or otherwise, before in her life, at least not as seriously as Buccaneer seemed to be about it. Of course, there had been Kyrie, but she'd been a girl, and Karla had never really sorted out her feelings towards her anyway. Then, there had been Lucien, who had stuck by her side in Virnikov the last time and had even saved her life. She doubted there had been any attraction from either side in that situation anyway, but... this was so _different_. It was unbelievable.

"Sure it isn't from being stuck in Briggs with a bunch of men?" she asked, half-teasing. She'd be damned if she was merely used as an object to gain sexual fulfillment. "Oh, forgive me, a bunch of men and merely two women?"

Buccaneer snorted. "Ya really think 'm that shallow? Woulda gotten up 'n' left already if I was. B'sides, it ain't like my left hand doesn't do shit."

Karla quickly picked apart the meaning in his last sentence, and she groaned. "Thank you for that little bit of need-to-know information. I don't know how I would have gone on with my life if I hadn't known that you stroke with your left."

The captain laughed. "Well, since ya needed t' know that, I gotta ask: Which one d' _you_ use?"

She sat up, staring down at him with indignation. "Really?" she asked, unamused. "Of all the questions, Captain, you had to ask me _that?"_

"Hey, I was kiddin'," Buccaneer replied, pulling her back down next to him. "Also, ya don' need to call me Captain or anythin' like that when we ain't on duty. It's Daitaro t' you."

"Fine, _Daitaro,"_ she shot back, her Drachman accent heavy on his name. She always had the accent, though it was stronger when she was emotional or putting force behind her statements. She figured she'd inherited it from her father. It didn't help that he'd spoken Drachman half the time to her when she was a child. "What kind of name is that, anyway? It doesn't sound Amestrian."

"That's 'cause it's not," he answered. "It's Xingese. I'm half. Was born 'n' raised in Xing." He yawned. "Anyway, enough talk. 'M tired. Gonna go t' sleep."

Karla instinctively snuggled up to his side again, laying her arm over him again. The warmth from both him and the blankets was enough to lull her into sleep, and she went willingly. What followed was one of the most peaceful night's sleeps she'd ever had. She had no idea why she'd never celebrated her birthday before this, but now the nineteen-year-old knew something new:

Birthdays weren't all that bad.


	14. Chapter 13: On the Warpath

_**A/N: It's been a while, hasn't it? Forgive me for not updating sooner. This is mainly a filler chapter; its main purpose is to set up for the next few chapters. What this begins is pretty much my favorite arc of Karla's story, simply due to the intensity of what is yet to come within it. My times updating will be sparse, like before, due to the fact that I've had a job for the past couple of months and it's due to continue for a while. Don't worry, I haven't given up on this story in the slightest. If you're a first-timer, I hope you enjoy it, and if you're returning to Karla's universe, thanks everyone for the reviews and such. Now, on with the story!**_

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><p>Chapter 13: On the Warpath<p>

_Shrieks of the anguished, screams of the injured._

_Gunshots and shouts of the enemy. _

_The sky seemed to rain fire over Virnikov; fear and pain was everywhere as the town was Drachma's chew toy once more. Some had fought, some had died, but many ran for their lives. There was nowhere for anyone to go; Virnikov was out in the middle of nowhere, so many took shelter in their homes. The walls and doors served as barriers only for a moment, only until the soldiers burnt them down. _

_As it was with ten-year-old Karla, her family finding themselves amongst the chaos of war once again. Ivan charged out to fight bravely, and Liesel did the same, leaving Karla alone in the house. Neither were the type to merely sit around and hide in terror; they preferred to face it head on, until the threat was diminished and destroyed. Shouting to Karla to hide, Liesel Chernikova left, and the child dashed away, straight to her usual hiding spot under her bed. _

_It was there that the girl stayed, curled into a ball, her hands clasped over her ears to try and drown out the sounds from outside. She had no idea how long she stayed there, whether it was minutes, hours... _

_...until the sound of the front door opening reached her. Karla stretched out from her cramped position, wanting to run out and see if it was her parents. The heavy footsteps were a sign against it, though, and she remained under the bed, trembling. They were here, the Drachmans were in her house, they were going to find her! _

"This is Red Blizzard's house, isn't it?" _The familiar language sounded, though the voice was a stranger's. Karla knew exactly who they were talking about, and fear filled her. What if he'd been killed? What if her mother had been taken? She'd be all alone then... _

"Yeah, I recognize that knife," _another soldier replied. _"Let's see whether he's got any brats crawling around."

_They laughed, and Karla gasped. While they were still in the front room, she quickly scurried out from under the bed and darted to her closet. She tried her best to close the door as carefully as she could, but it gave a loud creak, and she backed against the wall. It wasn't completely closed, and if someone heard that, she would be discovered instantly. A few minutes passed, and she curled up in the corner, pressing herself against the wall as much as she could. _

_The door suddenly opened, and Karla found herself with a gun pointed at her face. Filled with terror, she slowly looked up from the barrel into the face of the soldier, who had a ghastly smirk on his face. _"Hello, little Chernikov," _he said, his voice a mockery of a tender one. _"Or should I say, Chernikova. I'm not gonna hurt you. Just come out."

_Karla shook her head rapidly, scooting further away from him. She knew he was lying. She'd seen what they'd done to other children. She'd seen them, their bodies riddled with bullets, their flesh laced with slashes as they lay dying in the snow. She didn't want to become one of them. She liked living too much for that. _

"I said, come out," _the soldier repeated, sounding more impatient. Karla shook her head again, but instead of backing away, she ducked underneath the gun and shoved the soldier away, dashing towards the front door. She heard the soldier's angry shout, telling the other to pursue her and shoot her if he had to. She quickly ran into her father's study, climbing on a chair to grab one of his knives out of its display case. As she turned to get down, the other soldier blocked the doorway, aiming his gun to shoot. _

_The child quickly threw the knife at him, which luckily stuck in his throat. She jumped off the chair as he struggled in the doorway, and she headed for the front door again. A gunshot suddenly rang out, and pain blossomed in the right side of her back. Screaming, she collapsed, only to be picked up a few seconds later. Her eyes were screwed shut in pain, but still tears managed to escape from them. _

_The sudden arrival of cold on her body told her she was outside, along with the sound of her father shouting. "Karla! _Let my daughter go, you bastard!"

_She was dropped into the snow, and she laid there as the men fought above her. Tears poured down her face; she couldn't move, she couldn't speak, for it was too painful. Much too painful... _

The dream was interrupted by a stabbing pain in the right side of her back. Karla sat up in bed, rubbing the spot on her back, her fingers running over the scar. Oh, she remembered that day. It'd been the first time she'd been shot. That wasn't something someone forgot easily. It had also been when the fact had solidified in her mind: Drachma was bad, and they wanted the town for themselves. She'd tried so hard to forget, and yet it kept coming back to bite her in the ass in her dreams. That was just splendid.

She looked around the room. It was about a week after her birthday, and she was back in the barracks. Soon after they'd gotten back from the bar, Karla had noticed that Buccaneer – or rather, Daitaro – didn't sleep with the other regular soldiers. She supposed he had his own quarters like she heard Miles had. It'd make sense; after all, they were Olivier's second- and third-in-command, so to speak.

The room itself was dark; everyone was still asleep. She guessed it wasn't morning yet – only two or three beds were empty, and those soldiers were usually the night guard. Other than them, Karla felt she was the only one awake. Just great. Once she was awake, she was fully awake, unable to get back to sleep. She figured this time was no different, so instead of settling back in, she pushed the blanket aside, getting out of bed. Now to waste time until everyone else woke up so she could figure out what she was doing today.

Leaving the barracks, she swept her hair over her shoulder, tying and pinning it up in a bun in a mere few seconds. She'd had quite a bit of practice; before, when she was rather clumsy and slow with it, it would take her at least five minutes, even having to look in a mirror to make sure she was doing it correctly. Now, she didn't even need a mirror most days. Karla had contemplated cutting her hair a few times before, but had always decided against it. Her family liked her with longer hair, and she didn't think it looked very bad herself.

She walked down the hallways until she found herself outside, on the tall, overseeing balcony of the fort. The wind was blowing as the snow fell; there was never a calm-weather day here. Leaning on the bars, she watched the horizon as it glowed faintly. The sun would be up soon; she guessed it wasn't as early as she'd thought.

After a moment, a familiar voice sounded in the silence. "Hey, Kal. Didn' know y' were awake."

Karla looked over to see the captain walking out to stand next to her. "Good morning, Captain," she said, looking out into the distance again. "A bit early to be up, isn't it?"

Buccaneer grunted. "'M always up this early. Gotta relieve the night soldiers. The hell're you doin' up? Ya still got a good two hours."

The alchemist hesitated. Should she lie? She wasn't one to talk about her nightmares, or even mention them. Why should this be any different? Then again... He'd already broken down a wall of herself that no one else had. He wasn't like other people. "I had a nightmare. I couldn't get back to sleep." When the captain didn't respond, after a moment, she added, "It was about an event in my childhood, back in Virnikov. Back when my father was still with us. The Drachmans were attacking, and I ended up getting shot in the back. I was ten. There's a scar, actually."

Daitaro grunted again, perhaps in sympathy. "Dealt with 'em all yer life, haven't ya? Doesn' surprise me. Yer dad, how was he? Was it him or yer mom tha's Drachman?"

"It was him," Karla replied. "His name was Ivan. Ivan Konstantinovich Chernikov."

"Got a crazy middle name."

"He does. In Drachma, your middle name is your father's first name with a special suffix. The suffix is different for males and females. It's why my middle name is Ivanovna. Anyway, he came out here from Drachma when he was twenty-five." It was a story she'd heard all her life, told to her by Ivan multiple times. "He used to be an assassin. They called him Red Blizzard. At least, that's the Amestrian way to say it. I don't remember the Drachman name."

"An assassin," Buccaneer repeated. "Sounds like he was a tough guy."

"He was. He taught me practically everything I know about fighting. My knife actually used to be his; he gave it to me for my birthday when I was thirteen."

"So wha' happened to him?"

Karla paused. The mere question was enough to bring back everything, all the memories from that fateful day, the day her life was changed before her. How exactly did one talk about such a shocking, tumultuous event? "Well, he was here illegally. My parents thought that by getting married and having a child, he would be able to gain automatic citizenship. Unfortunately for him, that wasn't the case, and he found out he would have to go down to Central and fill everything out there, and then just wait until he was told he would be okay. Well, we didn't have much money. My mother's job didn't pay much, and he couldn't work since he didn't have anything. He was never able to go down and do it. So, when I was fourteen..." She took a breath, her body unconsciously trembling. "Soldiers came down to my house. They told him they'd waited enough time. He didn't beg for himself. He begged them to leave my mother and me alone, and they told him they would. My mother was a citizen already, since she was born here, as was I. They deported him back to Drachma that day."

She turned to look at the man, and she could tell he was about to respond when sudden gunshots rang out from behind the fort. "The fuck's goin' on?" he muttered, heading back toward the door. Once there, he looked back at Karla. "Think it's an attack. Major, get yer ass out there and start helpin' out whoever's on our side down there."

And there he was, ordering her around again. Good _lord, _she hated that. "You can't –"

"Don' have time for yer rank bullshit!" Buccaneer growled fiercely, in full attack mode. "Damn it, learn t' listen when someone who ain't the major general gives ya an order! Get out there!"

Karla groaned. She was about to head in after him, but then decided against it. With all the soldiers running around in there, it would take a decent amount of time to get back outside, time she didn't have... and as she looked back at the bars of the balcony, an idea sprang to her mind. Nobody would be in her way if she did this. She started running, and before she knew it, she had hurled herself over the side and was tumbling down towards the snow.

"The fuck ya _doin'?"_ Buccaneer shouted after her, running over to the bars and peering over, watching her. "You some sort of _idiot?"_

"It's faster this way!" Karla called back. She turned herself in the air and landed in the snow on her feet, which sent sharp, stinging pain through both her ankles. "Ow, fuck, fuck, fuck," she muttered, pulling her knife out of its sheath on her belt. "Maybe that wasn't the greatest idea..." She didn't have time to dwell on it, however, as she dashed through the snow towards the fence, climbing it and jumping over.

Soon enough, she was a good distance behind the fort, where she saw soldiers clad in white camouflage laying in the snow, aiming their guns in front of them. Looking behind her, she saw Olivier directing a crowd of soldiers, the captain among them, and ahead of her... she saw a different crowd of soldiers coming down from the mountains. Without waiting for orders, Karla left them, running ahead and darting behind a snowdrift. She made a cut in her arm and quickly transmuted a dagger, which she then held at the ready in her other hand. Damn it, she would not be caught off guard this time.

Minutes passed, with no action coming from either side. The alchemist peered over her hiding spot, watching, waiting. The minute one of the enemies showed themselves, she would be there, fighting, killing. _Come get me, assholes. I'll make you pay for Virnikov. _

No sooner than the thought had sprung to her mind did a group of five soldiers show up, all armed. Karla suppressed a groan. No way was she getting out of this unscathed. If they saw her, they'd shoot, and that would most likely be the end of her. Regardless, she moved from her spot, carefully sneaking along so there would be less of a chance of her being seen. Stealth was crucial to take out these five. The sound of a gunshot rang out behind her, and one of the soldiers dropped into the snow. The other four took this moment to start shooting at the Briggs soldiers, and Karla took this opportunity even further to dash up behind them and jam both blades into two of their sides. They yelled out, collapsing, as the third turned toward her and shot. She ducked just in time to feel a bullet whiz past her head, darting up to her aggressor and kicking him square between the legs. As he fell, cursing, she dragged her knife through his neck, cutting his throat and ending his life. She then turned to the other two, who were moaning on the ground. They looked up at her, their expressions pleading for mercy, but she paid them no heed as she split their throats as well.

Now, that was one, two, three, four... where was the fifth one? Karla whirled around to discover him approaching her, a sword drawn and pointed at her. Her eyes widened slightly, and she tightened her grip on her daggers. Right, this was a match made in hell. He lunged at her and she countered, blades whirling, striking together against the sword. The Drachman shoved her away from him and tripped her. As she tumbled in the snow, she heard her clothes tearing and felt pain across her back, causing her to bite down hard on her lower lip to prevent shouting out. Quickly, she flipped onto her back and threw her blades up in front of her, and they blocked the oncoming attack. Keeping one where it was, Karla moved the other and slashed at the enemy's torso, kicking him off simultaneously. She jumped to her feet and leapt on top of him, knocking the sword out of his hand and splitting his throat open. She watched as his body shook beneath her, blood pouring from his veins, a feeling of relief spreading through her.

Once the alchemist was confident he was dead, she got to her feet, leaving the crimson dagger in his throat and sheathing her silver one. She bit her lip once more as the wind sent pain streaming down her back. That was a horrifyingly close one. She was sure he'd slashed her back open, but this was no time to retreat. Instead, she picked up the sword and wiped the blood off it with her jacket. She'd use this now; her regular weapon would get a chance to rest. She had no intention of keeping said sword, however. Just for today, that's what it was for. Just for this battle.

She walked forward, her back stinging, looking around for more soldiers. No way in hell would any of them get past her. "Come out, you cowards," she muttered under her breath, the sword gripped tightly in her hand. "You're all scared of me, I know you are. I'll find you." Bullets blazed behind her, shooting out into the distance far ahead of her. She knew she was in no danger; she trusted the Briggs gunmen, knew that they were some of the best of the best. They wouldn't hit her unless Olivier told them to, and that wasn't likely to happen in the slightest. She'd proven her worth already.

Karla strode through the snow, not even thinking of the pain in her body, being more focused on the goal: taking the Drachmans out. She suddenly spotted some in the distance and ducked behind a tree, peering out from behind it. There were three of them, and one looked to be a woman. Another was rushing around, reloading the guns that had been tossed aside, and the third... The third, she could tell, was different. He wore different armor than the others, and he stood with a demeanor that told her he was of high rank. _He must be their commander,_ she thought. _If I take him out, the attack will stop. What's a force without a leader?_

She had to attract their attention somehow. With the commander there, there was no way in hell she could just waltz right up to them and start attacking. She had to lure them to her. Just how was she going to do that? Despite her instincts, she went with the first idea that sprung to her head: She moved out from her hiding place, carefully sliding the blade of the sword into her belt on her back, and threw her hands into the air. _"I've been forsaken by Amestris!"_ she shouted, the Drachman flowing fluidly from her lips. _"I'm Ivan Chernikov's daughter! The disgusting half-breed that belongs nowhere! Come destroy me like I know you've wanted to do!"_

The commander looked over at the woman and nodded, tilting his head toward Karla. Instantly, the woman sprung at her, and the alchemist quickly pulled the sword out from behind her. The enemy pulled out two daggers from her sides and began swinging, slashing at the air. Karla parried her with some difficulty; wielding a sword was much, much different than wielding daggers, and she had to quickly adjust the best she knew how. Of course, she'd never taken swordfighting lessons, so she was pretty much doing what came naturally to her. Even if she was flailing around like an idiot a bit.

It seemed the woman knew Karla had virtually no idea what she was doing, for she kept attacking spots that the alchemist foolishly left unguarded. Karla growled as the dagger cut her side, then whirled her blade towards the woman, cutting her across the stomach. Caught off guard, the woman collapsed, where Karla then plunged the sword into her throat. The woman's body shuddered as Karla pulled the sword out, the edge of the blade covered in blood, then proceeded forward towards the commander. The one at his side made to step forward, but the commander put a hand out to stop him, unsheathing his own sword in the process. _"This one's mine," _he said.

Karla stopped in front of him, no more than a sword's length away from him. She raised the sword in her hand, pointing it at him. _"You have two choices," _she said, her eyes narrowed. _"Surrender to us or be killed by my blade."_

"_You have a mind for deception,"_ the commander growled, his brown eyes flashing. _"Your skills, however, are amusing. I'll play with you for a while."_

With no other words wasted, the two sprang into battle, the Drachman lunging at Karla. She jumped back, and once again, the thought that she had no idea what to do with a sword raged through her mind. As the commander's sword glinted in the light, she swung her own sword up to block it. Unfortunately, this sword took both hands to wield, so the idea she'd had of pulling out her dagger in the middle of it wasn't going to work. Great; what was she supposed to do now?

Karla yelped as she was suddenly knocked to the ground, her feet swept out from under her by the commander. As he stood over her, the tip of his sword pointed directly at her throat, her eyes widened. _Oh, lord, what the everliving hell am I doing, this was the worst idea ever, I'm going to die..._ Thoughts raced in her mind, and she did the only thing she could think of: she tossed her own sword aside, carefully slipping her other hand underneath her. A sudden clang sounded in the air as she whirled her dagger up from behind her just in time to meet his blade as he brought it down towards her.

The alchemist met the gaze of the enemy commander, green locked onto brown with an intensity that could only be matched by the way her heart pounded in her chest. After a moment, she was the first to move, a leg swinging out and tripping the commander. He fell into the snow, and she gave him no opportunity to get up as she instantly pounced on top of him. The Drachman reached up and gripped her by the throat, his fingers curling to form a tight grip. Karla choked, her instincts jumping into high gear as she began clawing at his hand. Her nails left scratches on his skin, and she soon felt blood start to collect on her other hand as her dagger carved a gouge into the enemy. The man, however, seemed to take no notice of whatever pain he may have been in as he shifted them both, pressing Karla down into the snow beneath him. Karla's vision began to swim and cloud around her, and survival became the only pressing issue. She wouldn't die here. She _couldn't._

Struggling for breath, she quickly thrust her dagger upward, not caring where it landed, hoping desperately that the injury would just get him off of her. The feeling of warm blood beginning to drip onto her hand was a slight comfort, and she pulled her weapon back, hearing the sound of a blade withdrawing from tissue, muscle, flesh. The commander automatically let her go and staggered backward. Karla gasped, taking in a new fresh breath of air, and looked up at him. She'd hit the middle of his throat, she realized in relief. She began coughing as the Drachman sunk to his knees in the snow, himself beginning to struggle to breathe. The alchemist stood, circling him to his back. Once she was behind him, she dragged her blade across his throat, cutting it open completely. Her enemy slouched forward before finally dropping facefirst into the snow. He was dead. Karla had successfully come out on top.

After a moment, she knelt to pick the Drachman sword up from the ground. She then turned and began to make her way back to the Amestrian side of the conflict, feeling more than accomplished with herself. This was only the beginning. Drachma now had something to fear, and it came in the form of a nineteen-year-old female alchemist. There was no way in hell she was giving up now.


	15. Chapter 14: A Spy in Drachma

_**A/N: Right, I know it's been a shorter period of time between updates this time, but I am in a heavy writing mood tonight, and I'm just so excited for what is to come. So, here's another chapter for you all. I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for reading up to this point!**_

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><p>Chapter 14: A Spy in Drachma<p>

It was some time later when Karla awoke, finding herself once again in the infirmary. Damn it, she really had to stop landing herself here. How did she even get here? Oh, right. She'd been slashed in the back during the battle. Sheer adrenaline had kept her going through the rest of it, she remembered, and it was only after she'd made her way back to the Briggs side that she'd collapsed. She groaned. Well, at least her back didn't hurt anymore, though it felt strangely stiff.

"Should we start an insurance fund for you or something?" The voice of the doctor reached her, and Karla looked over to see the woman walking towards her. "Honestly, I've never seen a soldier so prone to injury as you. I can't decide whether you're only clumsy or suicidal."

"Very funny," the alchemist replied, pushing herself up into a sitting position. "Has anyone ever told you just how hilarious you are?"

"Don't even start with me. You've landed yourself in enough trouble as it is. You've got three guesses as to who wants to see you, Chernikova, and the first two don't count."

Another groan escaped Karla, and she shook her head wearily. It seemed no matter what she did lately, she always ended up in some sort of trouble. Was there something she just wasn't getting? "How is my back?"

"You'll live," the doctor answered. "I had to stitch it up, but you're good to go now. You'd better get out of here, though, or she'll come have my head for not notifying her you're awake."

"Excellent." The word was muttered under her breath as she slid off the bed and headed out of the infirmary. It was a bit strange, walking with a stiffened, stitched-up back. It felt as if her posture was being forced, like she was being prevented completely from slouching. Not that she slouched much anyway, but now she could really feel just how straight her back was.

Soon enough, she was at the door of the major general's office once again, and after knocking and receiving a confirmation to enter, she stood in front of the desk. Olivier sat, her hands clasped in front of her, her sharp blue eyes locked on the younger woman in front of her. The sword of the late Drachman commander laid on the wooden surface between them, and Karla had to keep herself from staring at it. A couple of years before, she would have felt incredibly intimidated by the officer's intense glare. Now, she met that stare with her own almost fearlessly, almost defiantly. This woman wasn't frightening anymore. She was just another force to be reckoned with.

"So." Olivier's voice broke the silence between them. "You ignored my orders to fall back, and this is the result." Her eyes darted down at the sword for the moment, then locked back on Karla. "You killed a Drachman commander. Alone."

"Yes, sir," Karla replied, a slight bit of pride rising in her heart.

"Only an idiot would throw themselves so willingly into the line of fire from their own side. You're lucky our soldiers are so accurate with their weapons."

Those cold words were enough to instantly strike down that proud spark. "I apologize, sir. I didn't hear your orders; I was too far away and the storm was rising."

"I don't want to hear any of your excuses!" Olivier's tone was rising with anger. Karla could hear it clearly in her voice, and she nearly flinched. Okay, so maybe she was still _slightly_ intimidating. "If you were in Central, you would have been killed by those untrained dogs!" The major general sighed, then stood from her chair. She looked down at the sword in front of her, examining it with a close eye. "You have no idea what you've done, do you?"

At first, Karla thought to remain silent, but her curiosity got the better of her. What could she possibly have done now? One of the commanders being killed – by her hand, no less – should be cause for some sort of celebration, not this scolding she was getting! "I am afraid not, sir. What have I done now?"

"If I had been killed in the skirmish, my second-in-command would be in charge of taking down the one who had been successful at the job." The officer's head raised, and Karla met her eyes once more. They seemed to burn with an intense fire, one that seemed to show often when her determination was at its highest. "I have no doubts that Drachma would do the same. In fact, I'm sure they _are_ doing the same. I also have no doubts that a good number of them have seen you, or at least your fighting style, before."

Dread instantly filled the young woman. She knew where Olivier was going with this. "They know of my father. They've been after him ever since he fled here. Of _course_ they'd recognize my fighting style... He's the one that taught me to fight..."

"You've given yourself away to the enemy!" the major general exclaimed, suddenly slamming a fist down onto the table. "This is the exact thing that _isn't_ supposed to happen! You've put yourself on the top of their hit list, and now they will take any opportunity they can to destroy you!"

"What the hell am I supposed to do about that, then?" Karla demanded before she could stop herself. "You expect me to sit quiet in the fort the next time they decide to attack? With all due respect, Major General, there is no way I will conform to that!"

"Do _not_ address me in that tone of voice, or I _will_ throw you to them next time!" Olivier growled back. She sat back down at her desk again, her eyes narrowed. "I do have a plan, however. I've discussed it with Major Miles and Captain Buccaneer, and we have decided the next course of action is to send someone into Drachma to serve as a spy for us. We can't keep being sitting ducks any longer."

_Let me guess. That someone is going to end up being me, isn't it? _"Have you decided on who to send out, sir? If I may ask?"

"None of us can easily pass as Drachman except one," the major general replied. "That one just happens to be you. If you're careful about it, you should be able to blend in undetected."

_I knew it. Damn it._ Where the hell was the logic in this? Olivier knew that Karla was now a target for Drachma, and she was sending her there anyway? Accepting this mission would be suicide... but then again, so would denying it. Either way, Karla was in trouble.

"I haven't told the captain I've chosen you," Olivier added after a moment of silence. "Don't think I haven't noticed you two. If I tell him, he'll spend his time worrying about you, and I do _not_ need that from him." Karla's heart fell. Great, they'd gotten caught. She was surprised the officer wasn't reaming her for that as well. "I need him focused. Do not say _anything_ to him about this. That's an order."

Karla nodded. "I accept this mission, sir. I will do my best to remain invisible to the citizens."

"Good. The last thing I need is a report stating that you made another idiotic move and that you were killed as a result." The officer paused for a moment. "You're to head to Baranovskaya. It's the closest major city to the border; you're not to go any deeper into the country than that. You will leave in two days, as soon as the sun rises. Don't get yourself caught."

"Yes, sir."

Olivier gestured at the door then, and Karla departed. Thoughts raced through her head as she made her way to the barracks. In only a couple of days, she would be going to Drachma, serving as a spy for Amestris. Somehow, she had to not get caught. She knew the Drachmans' view on half-bloods: that they were traitors to the country, even more at fault for existing than their parents for creating them in the first place. Her father had told her all about those views when she'd been a child; it had been why he'd warned her against ever setting foot in his native country. He'd said they killed the ones who had merely betrayed their country for another, but he'd never told her what they did to half-Drachmans. Instinct told her it had to be worse. It _had_ to be, for him not to ever tell her.

Once she'd reached the barracks, she sat down on her bed, staring down at her hands. Those hands had killed. They'd killed one of the highest-ranking men in the Drachman military, and they had carried his sword back to Amestris. This mission shouldn't be too hard, she told herself. All she had to do was remain undercover until she learned something that would be of value to Olivier. Then she had to come back and tell her. It would be simple... Yet, even as she tried to reassure herself, she couldn't believe it. She was heading into enemy territory. The slightest slip would get her killed, or worse. She was going to do exactly what her father had always warned her not to do.

_How in the world am I supposed to deal with this?_

As if some force was answering her, she raised her head as a familiar voice stated, "Hey, Kal."

"Daitaro," she replied as he came over to sit next to her.

Silence hung for a moment before Buccaneer stated, "So. Ya killed the commander."

"Yes. I got my back slashed open in the process." She turned her back to him and raised her shirt and jacket to display the stitches. "The doctor said I'm fine, however."

"Tha's good," he answered. "Th' major general said ya screwed up her plans by doin' that."

Karla didn't respond. It was true, she didn't exactly think before charging into battle. As she readjusted her clothing, she turned back to her original position. She never really thought before fighting at all. It was an impulse for her; when faced with a threat, she would jump headfirst into it with no other thought but survival. It was something she had learned in Virnikov. You could never think about anything else when the chance of dying suddenly was heavy in the air.

"She's plannin' t' send a spy to Drachma," Buccaneer said, breaking the silence. "I got a nasty feelin' it's you, but she wouldn' tell me who it'll be."

"She just doesn't want you to worry, that's all," Karla replied. "She said she needs you to focus here, not on what's happening in Drachma. I think she's going to be the one to worry about that. Someone has to keep the soldiers in check while she's occupied with that."

"That ain't gonna stop me. Everyone here can take care o' themselves just fine."

Once again, Karla sat in silence, lost in thought. He knew. He knew, and she didn't even have to tell him. They both knew it was her. It stung, the thought of being away from him. It was a foreign feeling; she'd never depended on anyone before like she depended on him. She depended on him for their nightly talks that had started several weeks ago; somehow they kept her sane in a strange way, they made her feel like she wasn't the only one suffering within. Now that she was going to Drachma... He wouldn't be there. She knew he was needed here, and she was needed to leave, and she knew she needed to come back. She needed to come back unscathed, if not for her benefit, then for his. She knew he'd never admit it, he was too much of a stubborn man to do that, but she knew he pretty much depended on her like she did him.

Her thoughts were interrupted then by his sudden movement on the bed. Her wrists were grasped, and she was slowly bent backwards to lay on the bed, and she felt his lips on her neck, and she had to suppress a shiver. "Daitaro, what are you doing?" she asked in a murmur that was almost a gasp.

"Should be obvious, shouldn' it?" he asked, his voice a grunt in her ear. "Jus' one las' time. Nobody's in here. Locked the door."

"You conniving fool," she crooned. She gasped as his teeth scraped lightly against her neck. _Just one last time..._

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><p>Time passed much faster than she would have liked it, and soon enough, Karla was awake on the morning of her departure. She began dressing in her uniform, then stopped halfway through. She'd been provided with her civilian clothes just for this mission. She couldn't wear the uniform; it would be a dead giveaway. Instead, she stripped out of her uniform and changed her clothes. Back into her long-sleeved shirt, back into her long skirt, back into her boots she went. The belt that held her knife went around her waist, her long trenchcoat went over her body, and her state alchemist pocketwatch went into the pocket of that coat. Her hair she left down; she wouldn't need it in a bun where she was going, for it would give her away more easily. Pulling a pair of black gloves onto her hands, she departed the barracks, heading for the back exit of the fort. She was half-hoping she would see Buccaneer somewhere before she left, but unfortunately he was nowhere in her path, and so she ended up leaving without saying her farewells to him. It left a twinge of pain in her heart to leave like this, but there was nothing she could do about it, she knew.<p>

The sun was just barely over the horizon as she stepped outside, and everything was silent but the sound of her footsteps in the snow. She knew where Baranovskaya was; it was the city where her father was born and raised, and he had told her many stories about it. She could see it clear as day in her mind, and she had looked it up on a map of Drachma she'd found in the library of the fort. It wasn't that far away; it would take only a few hours of traveling to get there, maybe a day at most. It surprised her that such a major city in Drachma would be placed so close to the border between themselves and Amestris. Well, it had to be put there for a reason, she figured.

As the sun rose in the sky, the hours seemed to drag on, to the point where she had no idea what time it even was. She didn't dare pull out her pocketwatch for fear of being seen; she was sure there were soldiers hiding out here, just waiting for a foolish enemy soldier to tread too deeply into their territory. She was honestly surprised she hadn't been found yet; wouldn't someone see a lone woman just wandering in the snow and take notice?

As soon as that thought crossed her mind, however, she heard footsteps behind her and instantly cursed herself. Why did she always think the wrong things at the most inopportune times? She turned to face the stranger and immediately held her hands in the air. She found herself face to face with a soldier, one who was pointing a gun at her face.

"_Who are you?" _he demanded, his Drachman accent thick.

"_Ekaterina Vasilyevna Kovalevskaya," _Karla instantly responded, remembering the name she'd put on the identification card she'd created under recommendation of Olivier. _"I am a native of Baranovskaya. I am returning there from an errand I had to make in another town." _

"_Where's your identification?"_ the soldier asked. _"Show it to me!"_

The young woman instantly delved into a pocket and pulled out the small card, holding it out to the soldier. Inside, she hoped desperately he would be fooled by it. She wasn't even _in _Baranovskaya yet; it would be horrid if she was caught already.

The soldier examined it for a moment, then handed it back to her. _"I will have a vehicle take you back to the city," _he told her. _"Come with me."_ As he began walking away, Karla followed him, having to suppress a sigh of relief. Either this soldier was intensely stupid or her identification was just that well-made. This was looking good for her so far.

As they reached his vehicle, the soldier opened the door and pushed her inside. She was about to retaliate when she remembered her father's words about how Drachmans treated their women. They were nothing more than objects, meant to be used for any purpose the men saw fit, and in no circumstances were the women allowed to retaliate against them. Not wanting to get caught, she complied, sitting in the vehicle obediently in silence as the soldier climbed in the other side and began driving.

No words were exchanged between the two of them as they reached their destination, and once they were in the middle of the city, he stopped the vehicle. Climbing out, he made his way to her side and pulled her out of the car, slamming the door behind her and driving back out of the city. Karla looked around her, examining her surroundings. The city was gorgeous. Tall buildings were everywhere, the ground blanketed in snow. People buzzed around her as they went about their daily lives, completely ignoring her, and she noticed that as her father had told her, red hair seemed to be a very common trait here.

With no leads to go on, Karla joined the crowd of people walking, wandering a bit around the city. All around her, she heard snippets of different conversations, and for once, she was thankful to be fluent in Drachman. Otherwise, she would not have known who was married to who, what someone's shopping list was, how mothers reprimanded their children here, and most importantly, mentions of Amestris's most recent retaliation. She heard of the death of the commander, who seemed to be well known here in the city, and how he was killed by an Amestrian woman soldier who everyone was seeming to refer to as the Bloodflower. She listened to how the Bloodflower was rumored to have skills that rivaled the Red Blizzard's, and Karla wondered how in the world they knew all this so quickly. _News must travel quickly in Drachma,_ she thought. Oh, if only they all knew that the so-called Bloodflower was just inches away from them...

Not wanting to stay in one place for very long, she began moving again, having stopped in the midst of a crowd at an intersection. As she walked, she scanned the area, looking for possible leads to find information. Soon enough, she discovered a bar, and she slipped into it quietly. She went to the bartender and nonchalantly ordered a drink, which she would use as a cover to listen in on conversations. Once she had her drink, she crossed over to a stool that was a few feet away from a group of men she guessed were soldiers. Of course soldiers would be here. _Seems Drachman and Amestrian men have more in common than they realize,_ she thought.

"_What are we going to do about Amestris?" _one of them asked. _"They killed the leader of our squad. The hell're we supposed to do now?"_

"_Simple," _another replied. _"We do exactly what they did to us. In our next attack, we'll take two of theirs to make up for that one of ours. We'll kill the Bloodflower, and then we'll take out their commander."_

The group laughed, and Karla's eyes narrowed. She felt anger start to pulse through her. They were planning to kill both her and Olivier the next time they attacked... She sipped at her drink to compose herself. She couldn't reveal herself. Not even the slightest indication of who she was was allowed here.

"_Without them, Virnikov is as good as ours!" _the first soldier exclaimed, laughing. _"Just have to get rid of the head bitch in Virnikov as well, and they're done for!"_

"_It'd bring the Red Blizzard out of hiding, that's for sure!"_

_They're definitely not secretive about this shit at all,_ Karla thought in anger. Oh, they were underestimating both Briggs and Virnikov. She'd seen both in action, and both were formidable. Maybe they _were_ just as idiotic as they looked... The way they talked about her mother, however, was enough to make her have to leave before she punched someone square in the face.

She left her drink abandoned at the bar and left the building. It would take a few more days here to really collect good information about the attack, though she'd learned a fair bit already. Outside, a scream suddenly ripped through the area, and Karla immediately jumped on the defense. She ran to the center square of the city, where she saw five men tormenting a young woman who looked about her own age.

The woman was on the ground curled in the fetal position, her long hair splayed out on the pavement around her, her arms over her head. The men were taking turns kicking and throwing snow at her, laughing and shouting obscenities at her all the while while the woman begged for them to stop. As Karla saw this, her blood boiled with rage, and she growled.

_I can't stay undercover for this. No woman should be treated that way!_

In what could be described as her most foolish decision in life so far, she jumped forward from the crowd into the scene, immediately drawing her knife and slashing at the men. _"Leave this woman alone!"_ she shouted, cutting one of the men in the arm. All five stopped their attack on the woman and turned on Karla, glaring at her in rage.

"_Get this bitch!"_ one of them shouted.

They all jumped at her, and she responded by slashing, dodging their feeble attacks and returning them tenfold. Their blood spattered onto her as her blade cut through their skin, and she was about to lunge at one of them and slash through his throat when an intense pain came at the back of her head. She was yanked back by her hair and thrown onto the ground. As she looked up at her newest attacker, her eyes widened.

_Oh... fuck._

It was a soldier, the same soldier she'd heard proposing killing both her and Olivier back in the bar. Before she could react, he grabbed her by the throat and lifted her from the ground, staring up at her. As their eyes met, his own narrowed, and he smirked.

"_Fancy meeting you here, Bloodflower,"_ he hissed. He threw her away from him onto the ground again, and before she could get up, he walked over and planted his heel into her left wrist, causing her to drop her knife. _"You've just made my job incredibly easy." _

Karla could do nothing but lie on the ground in shock, staring up at him as her blood raced anxiously in her veins. She shouldn't have done that, she _really_ shouldn't have done that...

And now she'd been caught.


	16. Chapter 15: Torture of the Imprisoned

_**A/N: TRIGGER WARNING: Physical torture and mentions, though no explicit descriptions, of rape. If any of the above is a legitimate trigger for you, feel free to skip this chapter. **_

_**That said, welcome to the new chapter. This was one of the harder ones to write, as this chapter is just filled to the brim with pretty much what is the most tragic event to happen to Karla to date. Plus, we get a first-time look from Buccaneer's point of view. I'm worried I messed it up a bit, but I've done it, and that's the important thing. Again, thanks to all who have read and reviewed this story so far; you all are great!**_

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><p>Chapter 15: The Torture of the Imprisoned<p>

With a laugh, the soldier bent down and picked up her knife, looking at it. _"I know this blade," _he said, holding it above her head as if to taunt her with it. _"It's none other than the Red Blizzard's! Who would've guessed the great Bloodflower's his spawn?"_ He laughed once again, his tone one of mockery. Karla recovered from her shock at this, and her eyes narrowed as she struggled to break free from beneath his heel. Her squirming only succeeded in causing her pocketwatch to slip out of her pocket, and once the soldier saw it, he picked that up as well. Staring at it, he glanced from it back down to her then back to her watch.

"_You are the Bloodflower, aren't you?"_ he demanded. _"You wear the Amestrian military emblem with pride!" _He opened the lid of the watch, looking underneath it, and Karla instantly knew he'd found where she'd carved her last name into it, in both Amestrian and Drachman. Lord, that was a stupid idea... _"Chernikova. You are the spawn! The traitor to Drachma, born of a forsaken assassin and an Amestrian whore!" _

With that, Karla let out a yell, grabbing his free leg with a fast grip and quickly yanking it out from under him. As soon as her left arm was free, she pulled it up from the ground and slammed him into the ground, jumping to her feet and grabbing her knife from him. She pointed the blade at his throat, glaring at him, rage filling her.

"_Give me one good reason as to why I shouldn't kill you where you lay!" _she screamed. The soldier did nothing but smirk up at her. Just as she was about to plunge her dagger into his throat, pain blossomed on the side of her head. She crumpled to the ground from on top of him, and instantly, her vision went dark as she blacked out.

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><p><em>She had a vague feeling of being jostled, of hearing voices around her... they were laughing, they were cursing... what was going on? The sound of a car driving through the snow... the ground was hard beneath her... She struggled to open her eyes, but for some reason she couldn't. She was drifting in a state of semi-consciousness, only half-aware of what was going on around her. She was... she was going somewhere, wasn't she? Oh, the fort, that must be where she was going... Her eyes opened slightly, and she looked around. She was in a car, or a truck, or something... men surrounded her... and as she opened her eyes a bit more, she discovered to her despair that they were all Drachman soldiers. This roused her instantly, and she let out a scream and lunged at the nearest one. Instantly, a loud crack sounded on the back of her head, and she collapsed again, having been knocked out once more...<em>

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><p>Karla's sense of feeling came to her before her sight, and as she slowly returned to consciousness, she felt only two sensations: freezing cold and intense pain. As in the previous place – had she dreamed that or was it real? – the ground was solid beneath her, no sign of softness anywhere. As her body shivered, she opened her eyes and took in her surroundings.<p>

The first thing she noticed was bars. Iron bars everywhere around her. She looked down at the ground where she was seated and saw cold, bare stone, and only then did she become aware that she was slightly hanging. Looking up, she noticed her wrists were shackled in cold metal handcuffs, attached to equally cold metal chains hanging off the wall. Everything she had was gone; her civilian clothes, her pocketwatch, her knife... and with this came the sudden horrible realization as to where she was.

She was in Drachman prison.

She was trapped.

All that was on her body was some sort of gown, threadbare, white, and short; it barely reached the middle of her thighs and was completely sleeveless. Her boots were gone, her legs were bare. They'd left absolutely nothing on her. Instead of making her fear for her life, it sent her into a rage.

"_Let me out!" _she shrieked, thrashing against her bonds. _"I demand to be set free! You cannot treat people like this!"_

"_Shut up, bastard traitor!" _a guard yelled in return. _"You're where you belong! No one can find you here! No one will find you here!"_

Karla growled and used the chains to pull herself to her feet. _"You bastards!"_ she screamed. _"I'll kill all of you! Let me the fuck out of here!"_

"_Shut up!"_ The guard suddenly entered her cell, slamming the door behind him. Karla glared up at him and tried to jump at him, attempting to bite him, to do _something _to him. Her attempts failed, however, and instead he brought out a knife and slapped her in the face with it in his hand, causing the blade to cut through her cheek. Blood streamed down her face from the wound, but this did nothing to hinder her attempts to attack him. In return, he slashed at her, cutting through the gown around her chest, causing thin, long cuts in her flesh. However, she still continued to struggle, and finally he punched her square in the gut. This caused the wind to be knocked out of her, and her legs gave out from under her as she struggled to breathe. The guard turned and departed the cell, leaving Karla gasping and coughing, trying to regain her breath.

After a moment, her normal breathing returned to her, and she sat in the cell. Blood dripped from her face and chest, and pain flowed through her body. All this only raised a question in her mind: Why hadn't they just killed her? They knew she was the one who killed their commander, they knew she was Ivan Chernikov's daughter; if they wanted her dead so badly, why hadn't they just done it already? She knew she had to break out of here. She had to break out of here and return to Amestris as soon as possible. She didn't even care if she would end up in trouble when she returned. The key word was survival, and in order to survive, she had to break out. Now... how the hell was she going to do that? She had nothing to break her chains, nor to pick the lock to get out. So... what was she going to do?

Her thoughts were interrupted when a different man walked in. This one didn't look like any regular guard. He looked more official like that, as if he was... the head of the prison. Oh, lord. This could not be good in any sense of the word. Karla glared up at him, complete loathing directed straight at him. She hated that she shared an ethnicity with him. She hated the fact that she was here. She hated him. As a smirk widened his lips, she wanted so badly to smack the damn thing off his face.

"_Well, if it isn't our little traitor," _he said, staring down at her. He walked toward her and lifted her up by the front of her gown to stand on her feet. She pulled her arms against the cuffs, trying to break the chains off the wall. If only she could whip him with them...

The prison overseer scanned down her figure with his eyes, then reached out to her and lifted her chin to stare at her neck. A feeling of disgust rippled through her, and she shook her head to move it from his grip. _"Aren't you a pretty little thing?"_ he asked, his smirk growing. _"The Red Blizzard should be proud of himself. He makes very attractive spawn." _

"_Don't touch me," _Karla snarled. _"I'll make you fucking regret it." _

"_Now, how do you intend to do that?" _the overseer asked, moving even closer toward her. He reached behind her and ran a hand up her back. _"You're not in a place to be making threats, little traitor. I'm going to teach you your place."_

Realization dawned upon Karla almost instantly, and she had never felt more helpless in her entire life. As his hands drifted over her body, she shuddered, feeling nothing but dirty. No. This was wrong. Nobody ever touched her like this except Buccaneer. He was the only one _allowed _to do it. This wasn't right at all...

The overseer's hands drifted over to her back once more, undoing the strings that held her gown on her body. Simultaneous fury, fear, and disgust swallowed her, and she attempted to drop back to the ground and curl up, so he had no access to her. Her attempt was unsuccessful, however, as his body secured her in place. In a moment, the gown dropped to the floor.

"_Don't you fucking dare,"_ she spat, her voice half-pleading. _"Don't!"_

"_Ah, little traitor... You're mine now."_

The only other sound that echoed was Karla's scream throughout the prison. Her mind instantly shut down all feeling as she struggled to throw him off of her. Lord, just kill her... She couldn't stand this, she didn't _want _this, she'd prefer death to this!

_Someone help me... _

After what seemed like an eternity, the overseer finally backed away from her. Karla raised her head and glared at him, her lower half burning in pain. _"You should consider yourself lucky," _the overseer spoke, a smirk on his face once more. _"I have some use for you. What a privilege you have... to be of service to me for the rest of your pathetic days." _He caressed her face, chuckling lowly. This sparked rage within the young woman, and she growled at him.

"_I hope you burn in whatever hell there may be!" _she hissed. She spat at him, and her saliva dripped down his face. His eyes narrowed, and he slapped her across the face. Pain stung through her cheek, and she glared up at him again. _"Is that all you have for me? You're pathetic! You're a Drachman, aren't you? Start acting like one!"_

The overseer's smirk disappeared, and he grabbed her hair, tilting her head backward. _"You dare to speak to me like this? You'll regret it." _He let her go, then departed the cell, leaving the door open. He nodded at the guard standing next to the door before walking away, and Karla was only alone for a brief moment before the original guard entered the cell. He pulled a whip from behind his back and unfurled it, cracking it in the air above her head.

Karla's eyes widened. Before she could react, the whip lashed her stomach, leaving a line of blood and a flaming trail of pain in its wake. She screamed once more, automatically trying to curl within herself. His weapon struck out at her again and again, sending pain searing through her body, set free by her screams and shrieks. Tears flooded her eyes and began to leak down her face, and she hated herself for this lapse in bravery. This was nothing, this should be nothing, damn it, why was she reacting to it?

The whipping only lasted a few minutes more, and after the last crack, the cell fell silent. The young woman hung limply by her wrists, her hair having fallen over her face, and was still except for the rapid movement of her breathing. The cell door slammed, and it was only then Karla raised her head once more. The freezing air bit at her wounds, causing them to sting once more, but she ignored the pain. Damn it, she would _not_ let them break her. She was too damn strong and stubborn for that. No matter what it took, she would escape from here and flee back to Amestris. She had to. There was no way in hell she was staying here for the rest of her life.

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><p>Several days had gone by. At least, that was what Karla thought. There was no way to tell any sort of time in her prison cell at all, for it had no windows that led to the outside world. She hadn't moved since she was first thrown and chained in here, not unless the guards or the overseer forced her to do so. Any thought she had that she would only see the overseer once had been chased into oblivion as he showed up more than once. Again and again, with only one goal in mind: his own pure sadistic satisfaction. Between the rapes, the beatings, the starvation, and the cold, Karla was physically and emotionally exhausted. It was difficult to even have a bit of sleep in here, and in those rare moments when she did, it was fitful and full of nightmares. It was getting harder and harder for her to tell what was a dream and what was reality. All she knew anymore was pain.<p>

Pain had made itself a permanent resident in her body. Her wrists, her stomach, her back, her head... not to mention her lower regions, they all reverberated with pain. It was a constant, the only constant that told her she was still alive, still living, still breathing. The only question that floated around her mine was _why?_ Why was she still alive? Why was she still like this? Why couldn't it just end, why couldn't she just die?

The creaking of the cell door interrupted her thoughts, though she remained in her same position. The deprivation of food she had suffered had sapped her energy completely, leaving her in a semi-conscious state, only half-aware of what was going on around her. Footsteps approached her, a key sounded in a lock, and suddenly her wrists were freed. Only then did she look up, and upon seeing a guard, she growled. _"Get away from me,"_ she snarled.

The guard ignored her, instead grabbing her by one of her raw, frail wrists and jerking her up to her feet. Karla's legs trembled dangerously as he rushed her out of the cell and down the hallway, down to a place she realized she'd never seen. It was a small room with nothing but a desk, a fireplace, and a bed. At the desk sat none other but the overseer, eying her with a hungry gaze. As soon as her eyes met his, panic flooded her, and Karla struggled to break free of the guard's grip. Unfortunately, this movement was too much for her legs to take, and they crumpled beneath her, sending her straight to the floor. She tried to crawl to the door to make an escape, but the guard kicked her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her and sending her collapsing to the ground again. As she gasped for breath, the guard left the room, leaving her alone with her greatest fear.

_Survive. Survival. He can't touch me... He won't..._

Soon enough, she was able to breathe regularly again, and sheer adrenaline surged through her. She sat up and pushed herself up against the wall, her eyes locked onto her enemy. The overseer sat at his desk, merely watching her, and this made her even more anxious than before. Usually he would go straight for her as soon as he saw her... what was going on?

After a moment, he stood from his desk and went to his fireplace. _"I've been waiting for you, little traitor."_ He pulled a metal rod from inside the flames and turned toward her with it. The end of the rod was a small square which was visibly hot, and there were small symbols written on the inside of the square. Karla couldn't make out what the symbols were other than strange reversed Drachman. _"I have something for you. To pay you back for all you've done for me." _

He walked over to her and grasped her by the wrist. She instinctively curled up, but he forced her out of this position and turned her on her side, leaving the right side of her body completely exposed. _"Hold still. This won't hurt a bit." _He began laughing as he suddenly pressed the red-hot square into Karla's side, causing a scream to rip from her throat. She had never been burned before, at least not like this. The pain was agonizing; it felt like her skin was melting off her body. Her scream was loud to attempt to drown out the pain, but it only made it worse, oh lord, she wished it would stop, she wished her body would just give in, she wished it would all end!

"_Stop!"_ she shrieked. _"Please, stop! I'll do anything! I promise! Stop!"_

It was only when she saw him back away from her that she realized he had taken the iron from her skin. She curled into a ball on the floor, her body trembling, tears running down her face. Pain was radiating from her side all over her, and as the overseer laughed, she felt herself being consumed by anger. How _dare _he do this to her...

Karla glanced upward to see him approaching her once more, and despite the pain, she pushed herself upwards and pressed herself against the wall again. _"Don't touch me," _she hissed angrily. _"You've had your fun, haven't you? Let me go already, you bastard!"_

"_Already forgetting your promises, aren't you, little traitor?" _He grabbed her roughly by the wrist and jerked her upwards, dragging her over to his bed and throwing her down onto it. She landed on her branded side, which caused her to cry out in pain once more. The overseer flipped her onto her front, then climbed on top of her. _"You will fulfill this promise, now and the rest of your life."_

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><p>Captain Buccaneer had never exploded on his commanding officer. He knew he would be flayed alive if he even tried. It was why, in the past, he had always turned to other solutions to vent his anger and frustration in the rare events that she was the cause.<p>

Today, however, was different.

Today, this wasn't concerning his feelings at all. Well, maybe slightly, but this was due to a greater cause than him.

It was about one of his soldiers. One of _her _soldiers, more like, and damn it, she was going to hear from him whether she wanted to or not.

It was for this reason he had arrived in the major general's office, standing in front of her, his arms crossed. He could not take the silence about this anymore. He wanted answers and nothing else.

"It's not often you come in unannounced, Captain," Olivier said once he'd entered, staring up at him. "What seems to be the trouble?"

"'S been a month, sir," he replied, making sure to keep himself calm. "We haven' heard anythin' from Bleedingheart. Ya sure it was a great idea t' send her alone?"

"If I had sent an accomplice with her, she would have been discovered more easily." She surveyed him with those icy blue eyes of hers, and he met her gaze unflinchingly. "Besides, I have full confidence Major Chernikova will do what I've ordered without hesitation. It takes longer than a week to gain information that's actually useful."

_Yeah, but ya'd think she'd check back in some way._ "I understand that, but doesn' it worry ya that she hasn' said anythin' at all?"

"I know what she does," Olivier answered, standing from her seat. "I know how she operates. She doesn't tell anyone anything until the imminent threat has passed. Which, considering she's in Drachma, is constant. I just hope she wasn't idiotic enough to out herself."

"'M just worried, tha's all." He had let the statement slip without meaning to, and this he realized when Olivier's eyes suddenly narrowed.

"If something had happened to her, Drachma would be leaping out of their seats to tell us," she countered. "They'd consider it the highest advantage to have one of us." She paused for a moment, then sighed. "Listen. Don't worry about her. She's capable of taking care of herself. We've both seen that fact more than once. I need you to focus on the force here. Let me worry about what's going on in Drachma. That's an order. I don't want to hear another word about her from you, understand?"

It was Buccaneer's turn to narrow his eyes. Red was a part of the force here, too, damn it. Olivier asking this of him was like asking snow not to be cold: it just wouldn't happen. Yet if he contradicted her, he risked her wrath, and that was not something he was in the mood for. Therefore, after a moment, he merely nodded. There was nothing he could say to sway her, really. The major general was one of those women he both disliked and idolized for being stubborn as hell. Once she had her mind set, there was no changing it, and he knew it.

Turning to leave, the worry inside him only grew. Where _was_ his Red? Was she okay? Was Olivier insane for sending her there in the first place?

_Damn it, Red, ya better be all right._

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><p>To say that Karla had grown accustomed to her new life in the Drachman prison was an understatement. Whether it had been days, weeks, or months since she'd first been locked in here she didn't know, for she'd lost track of time a long while ago. She had grown weak, weary of the treatment, and worst of all to her, she'd grown complacent. She no longer fought back when someone stepped into her cell, she just hung limply and took whatever it was they had decided to deal to her. She expected it now. The one time she had thought to attempt to use her alchemy, she had been unsuccessful, and she had paid dearly for it.<p>

The physical state of her body was definitely not a good one to be in. Her weight had dropped to the point where she was stick thin from deprivation of food, and that wasn't even mentioning all the injuries. Karla's body was bruised, battered, whipped, and cut, to the point where more flesh was damaged than not. The brand on her side had swelled horribly and was a bright, feverish red. She had no doubt it was infected, but then again, what part of her wasn't? How she'd managed to survive even this long she had no idea. All she knew was that she was weak and horribly exhausted. She had reached the point long ago where all she wanted to do was to lie and sleep forever.

However, not even in sleep was she safe. Her dreams were so close to reality she could barely distinguish between the two, and she would often wake herself up rapidly to discover she would still be in the same place. There was no hope left in her mind. She was trapped here, to forever be the slave of her enemies for the rest of her life, which was hopefully a short time. The will to live had long left her; she just wished it would all end for once...

The cell door opening interrupted her thoughts, but Karla did not look up. She knew who it was. It was either a guard or the overseer, but no matter who it was, she didn't care. _"Tell me something," _she croaked, her voice weak. _"You've gotten what you wanted. You caught me, you've had your fun. Why don't you just kill me already? That's the only thing you have left to do. Kill me, and the Chernikovs will be out of the way for good. That's what you want, isn't it? That's what everyone wants, right?" _

"_Your death would be merciful to you,"_ the voice of the guard answered, _"and traitors never deserve mercy."_

So, death wasn't even an option available to her. Oh, lord, how she wished Daitaro were here... It was something she wished for with each passing day, but with each day came the same disappointment. Amestris had forgotten about her, and Drachma wouldn't take her. There was nothing left on this earth for her.

It was better to waste away as a traitorous prisoner than living in a world that had no place for her.


	17. Chapter 16: Escape into Amestris

_**A/N: Forgive me for the long wait between chapters. Hopefully you will enjoy this one, as it took me quite a while to write it. Admittedly, the ending isn't as good as I'd like it to be, but it's passable enough. **_

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><p>Chapter 16: Escape into Amestris<p>

Another month had passed, and Captain Buccaneer's worry about his fellow soldier had only grown. Despite his conversation with Olivier, he had remained unconvinced of the major's safety, and thoughts of trekking to Drachma himself to retrieve her had crossed his mind more than once. Of course, he couldn't talk to the officer herself about it; she'd forbidden him from mentioning it again. On one hand, it made him furious that she showed seemingly no care in the world for her missing charge. Then again, he couldn't exactly fault her entirely for it. Every soldier knew the risks, especially on a solitary mission like this one, and spending all one's energy focusing on the one absent member was potentially a waste of time for the rest of them.

But, damn it, this one _mattered _too much to him to simply forget about.

_Fuck it all. I'm gonna get ya out o' there, Olivier be damned._

That night, he didn't sleep. He couldn't. He didn't want this weighing on his conscience any more than it had to. Instead, he dealt. He dealt with it the best way he knew how, in the sweet but scolding grip of alcohol. It had been his way of coping for a long time, for as long as he could remember. He drank until he forgot, until he was so far away from himself he could no longer operate, and tonight was no different. Except, he didn't plan on forgetting this time.

Not when everyone else had.

He'd been to Drachma before, more than once, for Olivier's need for information from the enemy. He'd even gotten himself captured on purpose in order to learn more information the Amestrian soldiers could use against them. He knew what Drachmans were capable of. They had restrained themselves from killing him since keeping him alive had only amused them, and they had had deluded themselves into thinking that he was their pawn in their conflict against Amestris. They had been wrong every time, since he had escaped of his own accord in each occurrence. However, he and Karla were different. He had no Drachman blood in him; she did. He knew they wouldn't hesitate to kill her should they feel like doing so.

The sudden thought of her death in his mind, he stood from the table at where he'd been drinking, slamming the bottle down onto its surface. He would kill all of them. Wherever she was, he would kill whoever kept her there, and would destroy anyone who stood in his way. He would make sure his face would be the last thing they ever saw.

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><p><em>How am I still alive? <em>

_Why am I still breathing?_

Questions like this passed through Karla's mind over and over again. How long she had been here, she had no idea. She'd lost track so long ago... It seemed no matter how much she pled, how much she begged for it to just end, the end would never come. She was only kept alive for the sheer amusement of her captors, that was what it was. How else could she explain it? Mostly starved, only being fed the sheer minimum required for a body to remain functional; if they had wanted her dead, they would have done it ages ago.

That didn't make her thought of still living any better, however. In fact, it only made it worse. What was the use of a body that was beaten, bruised, weakened to the point of breaking? What was the point of all her suffering? She'd gone from being a proud, strong soldier to becoming merely a piece of filth, even lower than the dirt on the ground, and for what? The mere sick amusement of the enemy.

_What a disgusting way to live. _

Sudden shouts interrupted her thoughts, but Karla didn't raise her head. She figured it was just the guards squabbling with each other, or maybe fighting with another prisoner; that happened quite frequently here. Soon after that, however, gunshots sounded, and her head shot up instantly. Nobody shot anyone in here. What the hell was going on?

As the commotion grew closer and closer to her cell, the alchemist began struggling at her bonds for the first time in a long time. Whoever was here was very likely to point that gun at her face and fire, and that was definitely not the way she wanted to go. She had to get out of here, and she had to do it _now!_ But the chains weren't breaking; she was stuck, just as stuck as she was when she was first thrown in here, and _oh lord I'm going to die like this this isn't what I wanted I can't die in Drachma I can't let them win –_

A shadow suddenly washed over her cell, bathing it in darkness, and Karla instantly did her best to curl into a ball. She heard the heavy footsteps, felt the intruder kneel next to her, and she was ready to kick out and attack the best she could. Nobody was touching her like that again, damn it!

"Kal, it's me!"

The voice, however, was enough to halt all thoughts of defense in her mind. She raised her head again and found herself staring straight at Captain Buccaneer. _What the hell...? I've got to be dreaming. I must be. _

"I'm delusional, aren't I?"

The question had sounded croakily from her throat without her even thinking. "I'm dreaming... You're not here, you can't be..."

"Too bad for you, I'm here," Buccaneer retorted. "Where's th' leader? Th' overseer?"

"Down the hall," Karla replied, her eyes still locked on him in disbelief. "What are you _doing_ here?"

"Gettin' ya out." He got back to his feet and headed for the door, a gun brandished in one hand, his automail in full display as the other. He glanced back at her for a moment, pausing in the doorway. "They ain't gonna hurt ya anymore. I'll be back. Promise."

Karla watched him rush out of the cell and down the hallway, and for the first time in a long time, she felt something besides simultaneous dread and fear: something that could only be described as hope, and even a small glimmer of annoyance. Well, that second feeling was a bit misplaced, wasn't it?

_God damn you, if you get yourself killed, I'll find a way to bring you back and kill you again._

She heard a scream from the direction of the overseer's room, followed by a gunshot. After that, silence. Total and complete silence. No rushing footsteps, no screams and shouts of the guards, no gunshots, no sounds of skirmishes, nothing. It was almost frightening, how silent the place had become. After a few minutes, Buccaneer entered the cell again, his gun now holstered, Karla's knife and pocketwatch clutched in his hand instead. Karla saw his automail was stained with blood, and she grimaced slightly.

"Couldn' find y'r uniform," the captain said as he knelt next to her again, "but I found y'r other stuff. Ya know, y're the unluckiest woman I've ever met."

"Shut it, Daitaro," Karla grumbled, unamused. "It is not the time or the place for this."

He chuckled. "There's th' Kal I know." He swung his Crocodile over her head, using it to cut her chains off the wall. She fell forward onto the floor, barely able to keep herself from striking her head on the ground. She was weaker than she realized, her arms and legs barely able to hold what little weight she had left... The cuffs remained around her wrists, but that was better than being stuck to the wall. She suddenly felt heavy fabric around her and looked up; he'd taken off his overcoat and draped it over her body instead.

"What are you doing?" she asked, laying on the floor to ease her trembling limbs. "You'll freeze to death."

"I've got my uniform," he answered. "Y've got nothin'. It's stormin' like hell out there."

After dropping Karla's belongings in one of his pockets, Buccaneer moved a hand towards her. Karla instinctively flinched, curling up underneath the coat, her eyes widening in a sudden state of panic. "Don't touch me!" she cried. "Get away from me!" Her body trembled as that familiar fear flooded back through her once more. She didn't want to be embraced, she didn't want to be held, she didn't even want to be touched at all. She knew what came from that. She wasn't about to be a victim again.

"Kal, calm down! I ain't like them, ya know that!" The captain's tone was simultaneously exasperated and worried. "I'm jus' gettin' ya out!"

"I don't need you!" Karla cried, moving herself away from him. She quickly pulled the coat around her, slipping her arms through the sleeves, then stood up with support from the wall to brace herself. "I don't need you... I can get out on my own!"

With adrenaline from her fright fueling her, she fled out of the cell, dashing down the hallway, heading toward what she thought was the entrance. However, she didn't get more than a few feet before collapsing, crying out in pain and shivering. Soon enough, she felt herself being lifted from the floor, a strong arm around her. "Damn it, Kal, try listenin' t' me for once," Buccaneer's gruff voice sounded. Reality struck her almost instantly – he wasn't a guard, damn it, he was her captain, and he was only here to help her, he wasn't going to hurt her, she knew that...

Even that thought didn't help to quiet the fearful doubt in her mind.

There wasn't much time to dwell on this, however, as a more intense cold suddenly struck her. They were outside, she realized, and it was only going to get colder. She buried her face in his shoulder as they moved, wrapping an arm around his neck, her fingers clutching weakly at the back of his uniform. She wanted to see no more of Drachma, no more of anything having to do with this place... _Just take me out of here, please... _Her weakened grip on his uniform jacket slackened even more, and her body went limp as she lost consciousness.

* * *

><p>The first thing she felt was warmth around her. Wait, this wasn't right... They'd been in the cold before, hadn't they? There was no way they could have gotten back to Briggs already... That could only mean one thing: She must be dead. She must have died, at long last, and this thought sent elation through her. Dying meant being free from the pain, the cold, the agony...<p>

Karla opened her eyes. Where she thought she'd see light, there was none; instead, she was staring up at a ceiling, an unfamiliar one, and the area around her was dark. At that moment, her body started shivering violently again, sending pain through her many wounds. She sighed. So, she was still alive after all. Damn herself and her stubbornness. But, if she was still alive, where was she? Where was the captain? Had he left her?

The sound of rough yet steady breathing was enough to answer two of her questions. She shifted slightly in the bed she lay in to look over, where she discovered Buccaneer asleep on a small couch near her. _This idiot,_ she thought wearily. _He doesn't need to be in here. This place, whatever it is, must have another bed somewhere. _She moved the thick blanket off herself – it wasn't helping her shivering anyway – and pushed herself up into a sitting position with much difficulty. It seemed her muscles didn't want to work properly, and this only became more obvious when she tried to stand up, only collapsing to the floor as a result. It was only then that she realized she was still without clothing, but as she had become used to it, this didn't really faze her. She began crawling the best she could across the room, her body stinging as it shivered, making her way to the doorway. Karla was curious about just what this place was, and damn it, she was going to find out.

Crawling through the hallway, only stopping when she felt too weak to continue, Karla noticed the entire place was dark save for a strange glowing in the living room. _What is that?_ She made her way slowly towards the light, which after a while, she discovered was a fire burning in a small fireplace. Once in front of it, she pushed herself back up, holding her legs against her chest, her chin resting on her knees. Her eyes locked onto the flames, and soon enough, she was lost to it, all coherent thought vanishing. She could feel faint warmth radiating onto her skin, but the coldness inside overpowered it; it felt as if it was eating away at her.

Meanwhile, Captain Buccaneer ran a hand over his face, having been woken by a sudden thud in the room. He sat up after a few minutes, scratching absentmindedly at his head, then looked up at Karla's bed. His eyes widened as he realized that Karla herself was missing from it. "Damn it, Kal," he muttered, getting up and going down the hallway. "If y've disappeared on me again, I swear..." Yet, as he reached the living room, he realized she hadn't gone anywhere. In fact, she was seated in front of the fire, curled up, unmoving. The light gave her skin an orange glow, and it made her look the healthiest Daitaro had bet she'd looked in the past few months. From the way her body trembled, however, he knew something was wrong, and it wasn't just from the treatment she'd received in Drachma. With her still like this, he could see her injuries to some extent, and if he were a lesser man, he'd have looked away instantly: her back and shoulders were slashed and bruised, as were her sides, arms, and legs. She had been beaten so badly that there was no patch of skin unscathed, and on her right side, there was a larger wound, probably the largest he was going to find on her. It was raised and angry red; it looked horribly infected. She looked awful, and it was incredibly likely she was hypothermic on top of all that, which was probably one of the worst things that could happen since they had no doctor nearby to treat her.

Now that she was awake, though, she could probably drink something. Buccaneer really didn't know much about how to treat illnesses like this, but the first thing he thought of was something warm. Going to the kitchen, he took a mug from the cupboard and quickly rinsed it out. Lucky this place had running water, otherwise he would have really been stuck. He let the water run from the faucet until he deemed it hot enough, then filled the mug and brought it back into the living room. As he glanced up at Karla, setting it down on a nearby table, he saw she was reaching forward, her hand headed straight into the fire. He rushed over to her and moved her back, carrying her to the couch and laying her down.

"The fuck ya doin'?" he demanded. "Ya really want all y'r flesh burned off?"

Karla was struck out of her stupor by Buccaneer's voice, finding herself on the couch of the living room, and she focused her attention on him. He was reaching over and draping a blanket over her; why was he doing that? Couldn't he see it wouldn't help, that no matter what he did, she would still be freezing? "It's warm," she replied, her speech slurring together. Speaking right now was more difficult than she thought it would be; it seemed her mind didn't want to work correctly right now either. She looked over at a mug that was on the coffee table. "What's that?"

"Water," he replied, helping her sit up and handing it to her. Her hands shook dangerously as she held it, and she looked from it to him. "Might help ya warm up. Can' get a doctor out here right now, the phone isn' workin'."

Karla stared down at the mug for a moment, then slowly lifted it to her lips and drank from it. The liquid inside was hotter than she thought it would be, but it still felt more than pleasant as it ran down her throat. She was so cold that she could feel its warmth from the inside, and that was a bit comforting. Perhaps she wasn't as impervious to warmth as she'd initially thought. "Where are we?" she asked after taking another couple of drinks.

"We're back in Amestris," Buccaneer answered. "We ain't anywhere close to Briggs, though. Couldn' get there without having ya die on me. Surprised ya didn'. I found us a cabin that I guess was abandoned, and we're gonna stay here 'til I get ahold of Briggs."

Karla nodded, draining the mug and then leaning back onto the couch. She kept a close, watchful eye on Buccaneer, keeping note of his every movement. Regardless of her condition currently, she would attack if she felt threatened. At the same time, while she knew in the back of her mind she needed rest to recover, she was entirely reluctant to go to sleep, from fear of nightmares. Every night in the past three months had been full of nightmares, so much so that soon she'd lost track of which assaults were real and which ones weren't, and she had no desire to witness that again, not now that she was out of there. It seemed that every time she merely closed her eyes, she saw it, felt it once more, and she would be terrorized out of drowsiness.

She looked down at her hands, noticing that her wrists were free of the shackles they'd been in. He must have cut them off of her at some point... but that didn't take away the fact that they were raw and frostbitten, and perhaps the skinniest she'd ever seen them. "How long was I out?" she asked after a moment.

"S'been about five days," the captain responded, leaning forward off the couch. He'd broken eye contact with her, but she still kept her own on him. "Thought I'd lost ya a few times. Ya kept wakin' up, though, screamin'. That at least told me y' were still alive."

So, she had woken before this? She must have passed out relatively quickly those times, since she didn't remember them. All she remembered was being locked in a nightmare, one that felt so real, one that she couldn't break out of. As the memories of this flooded back through her mind, she curled up underneath the blanket once again, her heart racing. "I am never going to Drachma again," she said, her voice frightened. "I can't face them again... I can't face _anyone_." Her breathing became labored and panicked as she stared into the fire again, her mind lost to the memories within once more. _"You should have left me there,"_ she added in Drachman, automatically dropping to the language as if she had returned to the prison. _"You shouldn't have freed me... You should have left me there to live as the traitor I am!" _She groped around for her knife, which she found hidden beneath the pillow behind her, and as she pulled it out, she looked back at Buccaneer, who had seemingly morphed into the Drachman overseer who had successfully inspired terror within her.

He suddenly lunged toward her, and she swung her knife, cutting him across the face before her wrists were grabbed, her knife falling out of her hand to the floor. _"Let go of me!"_ she shrieked, thrashing beneath him, utterly and absolutely terrified. As she found she couldn't free herself, she broke down into tears, her body shaking.

Buccaneer had lunged for the knife as soon as he had seen Karla unsheathe it; the reaction had been instinctual from his many years as a soldier, and while his cheek stung from where she had slashed him, he released her as soon as he saw that she'd dropped the knife. "God damn it, Kal, it's me!" he exclaimed, automatically wiping at the wound on his face. He knew what she was going through; those inevitable times where the mind betrayed and trapped one, and he was determined to break her out of it. It scared him, quite frankly, to see this otherwise strong woman completely breaking down from her own demons. Fury boiled inside him to see Karla like this; he cursed the soldiers for being able to die so easily. Damn it, she was _his_, no one else's, and he only wished he could cause them even more agony than he had. Now her thrashing around would only make her worse; she was going to end up killing herself if she continued on like this. Ignoring his better judgment, he pulled her up against him, not even caring how much she attacked him. He was going to break her out of it, no matter what happened to him.

Karla struggled to break free, her mind still convincing her that he was the overseer, the monster of a man who was insistent on teaching her her place, as he had so firmly put it. Then Daitaro's voice broke through the fog in her head, and she stopped resisting – it was _him_, he wouldn't hurt her, he was the last person who would –, instead collapsing against him, tears running down her face. She sobbed against him, absolutely hating herself for doing so. She wasn't supposed to break down like this, she _never_ broke down like this... _Maybe everything everyone said was right, I am a weakling, it's my fault I got caught, it's my fault all this happened, I deserve to die, he shouldn't have found me, he should have just ignored me and left me behind!_

"I'm so sorry," she gasped after a moment, her arms wrapping around him. "Daitaro, I'm so sorry..."

"'S nothin'," he replied, running a hand through her hair. "'S only a scratch, didn' hurt."

Yet it wasn't nothing, she knew, or at least she told herself. She had hurt him, she'd hurt the only person who seemed to give a damn about her, and she'd be lucky if he ever let her near him again... She hated herself. She hated her mind for betraying her, hated her thoughts for letting those memories back, hated her body for being too strong to die, hated her body for being weak enough for allowing it to happen in the first place.

"Y're only gonna make y'rself worse," Buccaneer said after a moment, gently leaning her back onto the couch. "I'm going to go see if I can get this phone workin'. The storm's let up a bit. Don't even contemplate gettin' up." He stood and left the room, and it was only then that Karla's stomach decided to let her know it wasn't enjoying the water she'd drank. She whimpered, getting up with difficulty. She didn't want to lose it all over the floor, and it was this thought that carried her somehow to the only bathroom she could find, where she just barely made it to the toilet before vomiting. Great... this was just great. What could possibly be worse than the condition she was in now?

* * *

><p>Four days had passed, and Karla's body had shown no improvement from either the supposed hypothermia or the wounds that littered it. She was awake more often now, but every time she woke, she immediately had to make a run to the bathroom. She had no idea what was possibly causing this; she didn't think it was hypothermia, since that was basically the body shutting down from being too cold, not flu-like symptoms. Her bed was still the couch, since she was far more comfortable in front of the fire than in the actual bed Buccaneer had originally stuck her in. When it came to eating, Karla refused almost everything that he offered her. She had spent so much time without food that her stomach was no longer accustomed to it, and whatever she did eat she became full from incredibly quickly now. It also didn't help that she tended to vomit whatever she did eat these days.<p>

Today, Karla was asleep on the couch, covered fully with two blankets. The captain had been working on trying to get the phone to work for days now; he had to call Briggs and have them send a doctor out here at the very least. She hadn't been asleep very long, however, before she found herself being woken up by him. "What is it?" she asked groggily.

"I got the phone workin'," Daitaro replied, sitting on the edge of the couch. "Called the general. Told her I got ya out and that y're alive, but ya need a doctor. She's sendin' ours out, and she's bringin' a vehicle to take us back."

That meant, depending on how far this cabin was from the fortress, it could be days or even mere hours before the doctor arrived. Hopefully it would be sooner rather than later... She nodded, her drowsiness taking hold of her once more, and she closed her eyes, drifting unwillingly back into sleep. Oh, how she hated sleeping these days.

She had no idea how long she'd been out, but she was locked in a nightmare, and when she felt something touch her shoulder, she screamed, waking instantly. "Chernikova!" Olivier's voice broke through the haze, and her eyes flew open as she suddenly sat up. Looking wildly around, she discovered she wasn't in the prison, but still in the cabin, and she was surrounded by Buccaneer, Olivier, and the doctor.

"Will you keep your head on?" Olivier demanded. "There is no need for that infernal screaming."

Karla sighed, laying back down on the couch. Daitaro hadn't told her Olivier was coming as well. What the hell was she even doing here?

"Open your mouth," the doctor ordered, sticking a thermometer in her mouth before she could react. Karla looked around at the three of them, wondering dimly why they were all around her. Buccaneer and Olivier both had their arms crossed, but while Olivier's expression was one of ferocity, Buccaneer's was one of slight worry, and she could tell he was trying to hold himself together. After a moment, the thermometer beeped, and the doctor removed it from her mouth, reading it. She sighed. "As I thought when I first saw you, it's hypothermia. Severe hypothermia, at that. By all rights, you should be dead. What the hell happened up there?"

"That's what I want to know," Olivier commented. "The captain told me virtually nothing when I received the call."

"Well, we won't be finding out anything until she recovers, which she'll have to do at the fort," the doctor replied, "since I have nothing here to help with that. We'll have to move her, and carefully, since she shouldn't be walking whatsoever." She looked over at Buccaneer. "Does she have any clothes?"

The captain shook his head. "Couldn' find 'em. They must've destroyed 'em."

"Clothing is replaceable," Olivier said. "Let's go."

It was a rather difficult few minutes, but eventually, everyone was in the vehicle, and Karla drifted back to sleep as they began driving back to the fortress. Back to her nightmares, back to those horrible memories, yet her body loved the rest it was getting, and it wouldn't let her wake back up. Besides, what was worse than this? Nothing, most likely. It would only be a matter of time before she recovered, and then she could go on as if it never happened.


	18. Chapter 17: The Bloodline Continues

_**A/N: A new year, a new chapter! My extreme apologies that this took so long to be posted. However, I believe in quality over quantity, and that combined with being horrendously busy again these past couple of months lead to no time for writing whatsoever. Despite that, I've finally finished it, and here it is! I do hope you enjoy it, and I also wish you a truly happy new year!**_

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><p>Chapter 17: The Bloodline Continues<p>

Movement. The soft rumbling of an engine. Voices... more jarring movement. It all seemed to bleed together, creating a large blur of whatever it was, and Karla seemed to remain on the outside; it was as if she was experiencing it through someone else's senses. This wasn't happening to her, was it? It couldn't be. It had to be a dream, it just _had_ to be. Nothing seemed to be defined enough to be real...

Yet, she found herself waking in a hospital bed, in a bright white room, unlike anywhere she'd been recently. _Where am I...?_

She attempted to push herself up into a sitting position, but was discouraged by a sharp pain in her left arm. Looking over, her eyes widened as she found a needle embedded in the crook of her arm; Karla's gaze followed the small tube connected to it up to a hanging bag that was filled with some sort of clear liquid. Her heart raced in panic, her fingers wrapping around the needle in preparation to yank it out. _I'm being drugged...! Not again!_

A scream ripped from her lips as a door crashed open, and someone in a long white coat rushed over to her and pried her hand off the needle. "What do you think you're _doing?"_ a feminine voice exclaimed. "Forgive my harshness, but are you _trying_ to kill yourself? Leave it alone!"

Karla's head finally whirled to face the intruder and found herself staring into icy blue eyes. The woman didn't look much older than her, with raven hair that fell to just above her waist, it looked like. The look in the woman's eyes was cool, collected, even possibly slightly annoyed. "Who are you?" the alchemist choked out, trying to will her heart to calm herself.

"I'm Dr. Silvestra Lilienthal," the woman replied, pulling away once she had satisfactorily moved Karla's hand away from the needle. "No need to tell me who you are, I know already. Karla Chernikova, a Briggs soldier. Your commanding officer brought you in, and I have to say, I've never seen a woman so cold-looking as her. Any more questions?"

_This woman is a doctor?_ Karla stared at her for a moment, finding this fact rather difficult to believe. Dr. Lilienthal couldn't be more than twenty-five, could she? She forced this thought out of her mind, however, instead focusing on the information she wished she had. "Where am I?" she demanded shortly before holding her left arm up. "Why is _this_ stuck in my arm?"

The doctor sighed, looking up at her from the clipboard she was carrying. "You're in the North City Memorial Hospital," she answered, "and that is in your arm because you're severely dehydrated. Whatever happened to you in Drachma took a horrendous toll on your body." She directed her attention back to the notes on the clipboard. "Severe hypothermia – I don't know how you're still alive – , obvious evidence of physical trauma covering the entirety of the body, and there is clear evidence of forced penetration in the vaginal area."

As soon as the descriptions had passed from Silvestra's lips, Karla's body instinctively went into panic mode, her heart racing, her breathing suddenly becoming staggered. Vivid memories flashed in her mind for a moment, and she gripped one of the bars on the bed so hard that her knuckles somehow became even paler than they already were. It hadn't been a dream; it was _real,_ and she was truly here, battered and damaged, yet somehow still alive. Trembling, Karla looked back over at her, making slight attempts to calm herself. "Anything else?" she managed to utter.

"As a matter of fact, there is," Silvestra replied. She pulled a rolling stool over next to the bed and sat down, fixing the alchemist with a serious, slightly sympathetic gaze. "This will be difficult for you to hear, that's clear enough just looking at you. However, in the event of rape, there is a secondary examination that must be performed, involving a blood test and a look at the insides. No need to worry about that, I've already done it." She sighed once more, looking briefly down at the clipboard again, then back up to Karla. "You do have some injuries, but there isn't anything that can't be healed, and you have no diseases. That happens to be the definite good news. However, the blood test discovered something else."

Dread filled the alchemist. _Oh, no... It can't be... _She had a horrible feeling she knew exactly what was coming, and she hoped to everything she believed in that she was wrong. "What is it?"

"I'll be blunt about it. You're pregnant. I can't place exactly how far along, but from what I know about your recent circumstances, my guess is around two or three months."

It felt as if the floor beneath her had completely vanished, her stomach dropping in horror. That was exactly what she'd been afraid of. Her eyes widened, and she pulled her legs up towards her to rest her head against them. Her hair spilled down from her shoulders to hang limply around her, her nails digging into her arms. "You're lying," she muttered after a moment, raising her head to look at the doctor again. Her tone rose as she continued. "You're _lying!_ That isn't _possible!"_

Karla's temper was one that tended to get the better of her, and this case was no exception. Before Dr. Lilienthal could stop her, the alchemist yanked the needle out of her arm and threw it to the side, ignoring the blood now spurting from the area. She moved to get off the bed, but Silvestra caught her by the shoulders, wrestling her back onto the bed as Karla struggled. _"Let go of me!"_ she shrieked, trying to break the doctor's grip on her.

"Calm the hell down!" Silvestra shouted back. In a moment, two nurses rushed into the room, one holding a syringe in her hand. As soon as Karla saw the instrument, she let out another scream, thrashing around on the bed. She was going to be drugged again, she knew it, she was going to be completely vulnerable and at the mercy of everyone around her, and damn it, she didn't _want_ this! Yet even as she fought, she felt someone grab her arms, and then a twinge of pain in the crook of her left.

"Leave me alone!" she cried, feeling whatever they had injected already start to course through her. Her body began to relax at a faster pace than she was used to, her muscles seemingly losing all their strength. Drowsiness pulled at her, threatening to drag her down, and she was only able to register the second nurse bandaging her right arm before succumbing to the unwanted shadow of sleep.

* * *

><p>Karla stayed in the hospital for two weeks. After discovering that she had been injected with a sedative during her first day, she had calmed down significantly, fearing any future injections. Yet she was still disturbed; any time she allowed her mind to wander, all her thoughts were forced back to places she didn't want them to be, memories of her time in Drachma springing back, bringing with them their embrace of cold fingers against her skin. Dr. Lilienthal had fallen into the habit of bringing in the resident therapist whenever Karla succumbed to her memories, and while the alchemist had grown to despise his presence, she was cooperative regardless. After all, she'd known she would end up getting the sedative if she'd lost her temper again.<p>

During this time, not only did she receive a diagnosis of her physical symptoms, but clearly there was something wrong with her mind as well, for she was also told she had at least two mental issues. Of course she did. That was to be expected, wasn't it? Times like this... going through what circumstances she had gone through, and so recently... Anyone would be mentally unsound after that. Even with this fact crawling around in her brain, however, Karla still felt horrible. The fact that she had succumbed, her mind had broken underneath it all, only served to confirm she was just as much of a weakling as she'd always felt she was. After all, she wasn't just anyone; she was a state alchemist, a warrior of the military, and she was not supposed to react this way! Why couldn't she just shake it off...?

It was the day she was to return to the fort, though for once, she was not relieved. In fact, she was more ashamed of herself than anything. She would have to face those she respected, and she worried that they would no longer think anything of her. All their thoughts about her would be confirmed: she had no place there, she wasn't strong enough for anything, she belonged somewhere else. As she checked herself out and departed the hospital, these thoughts were whirling like crazy in her mind, unrelenting in their torment.

There was also the secondary factor of the creature growing inside her. She knew Olivier was going to react very badly to that, and Karla most definitely wasn't looking forward to letting her know. It didn't help that the alchemist was terrified of pregnancy and childbirth, and therefore had never planned on having children. Yet here it was, the parasite, using her as its incubation, left as a living memory of the bastard overseer who had dared to touch her...

_I want this thing out of me!_

She looked up as she heard the rumble of a car to discover a vehicle from Briggs had come to pick her up. How they knew she was being released today she had no idea, but regardless as it pulled up and halted in front of the hospital, she climbed in. Upon entering the vehicle, she was greeted by a couple of lower-ranking soldiers and Buccaneer, who was really the only one to look back at her as she entered.

"What'd the doc say?" he muttered at her once they'd started driving back to the fort.

Karla sighed, her focus being the landscape out the window. What the hell should she tell him? That she was all fine and dandy, that there was absolutely nothing wrong with her at all? Or that she had a slew of mental issues, so everyone should feel horrible and sorry for her? Neither of those options were appealing in the slightest – the first one would be an absolute lie, and she abhorred pity being taken on her in any form for any reason at all. No, she wasn't completely all right, but she would refuse being completely catered to as well. On top of it all, did she dare breathe a word of the parasite within her? She wanted no one to know, not even herself, though the latter had unfortunately been informed. Now, there was the case of keeping it a secret from everyone else...

"I am no longer hypothermic," she finally answered, "however I am apparently suffering from at least two mental disorders. I think that diagnosis is bullshit, though."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Buccaneer nod. What, did he actually believe them? Would he treat her like a complete, fragile invalid now? She wouldn't stand for that whatsoever. Besides, the doctors were probably wrong. There was nothing wrong with her, she knew. She'd served her time in the hospital, and now she was just as fine as she was before.

"Anythin' else?" His voice interrupted her thoughts yet again; god damn it, couldn't he just shut up? It was clear enough that she did not want to discuss it whatsoever. At least, it should be. Then again, he seemed to always have the irritating tendency to try and pry into her thoughts, to get her to break down and tell him everything. After all, this had happened before; she had had no idea why he was so determined then, and she had no idea as to why now. Couldn't he see that she was fine?

"Nothing."

With that, the vehicle returned to silence, but Karla didn't dare steal a glance at him. She was sure that if he saw her looking, he would instantly know something was on her mind, and she wanted no part of his interrogation. As it was, she was sure she would have one to deal with from Olivier. She just had to trust that the hospital hadn't already given her Karla's medical records...

It stayed silent like this the entire rest of the trip back to the fort, and once they had returned, Karla made a beeline straight for the barracks. Once she was there, however, it was as if someone had predicted she would go exactly there, for she was greeted by Major Miles standing there, completely in her way, and no matter what she did, she just could not get around him.

"What do you want, Major?" she asked finally, feeling rather exasperated.

"General Armstrong desires to see you," he said, being just as stoic as ever. Karla found this trait of his both admirable and irritating. One just could not talk to him when he was like this. "She sent me after you as soon as she heard you returned."

She sighed irritably, and she couldn't help rolling her eyes. Of course, she couldn't have a moment's peace now that she was back here. Why on earth would she be allowed that? She should have known better, however; she'd been here two years already. "Thank you, Major," she said, turning away and heading towards Olivier's office.

It was far more active today in the fort than it had been when she had departed, though that could probably be attributed to the fact that it was daylight this time. Still, as she passed through the corridors, she couldn't help but feel a sense of paranoia and dread, as if her captor was just around every corner or disguised as one of the other soldiers, and it wasn't long before her pace quickened. There was no way in hell she would surrender herself to that sort of torment again. Her heart raced in her head as she made her way towards her destination, and soon enough, she was running. Luckily, she didn't receive very many stares, or if she did, she didn't notice. Karla was merely focused on getting there with no other incident.

She skidded to a stop in front of the office and knocked, since the door was closed. "Enter," came Olivier's voice. Pushing open the door, Karla slipped in and stood in front of the desk, saluting as she did so.

The major general was there, musing over a mess of paperwork that was strewn over the surface of the wood with an indescribable expression on her face. From a mere glance, Karla could see her name printed on one of the sheets, and dread filled her. _This can't be mine, can it? _There was no way. Olivier couldn't have her medical files. She'd know everything then, and that was the last thing Karla wanted.

The officer looked up at her once she noticed she was there. "Major Chernikova," she said, saluting in turn, allowing Karla to drop her arm. "You have finally returned. Rest assured, everything here continued as it were even without you." Karla merely blinked in response, even though this statement infuriated her. Condescension was something she hated passionately, and yet here it was, being delivered to her as casually as possible! It was only then that she noticed Buccaneer standing next to Olivier as well, his eyes fixed on her almost accusingly. Her heart fell even further. If Olivier knew, then he surely had to know as well. He would know Karla had lied to him... or it was possible he had known already, and he had merely been trying to get her to admit to it.

"Your medical file was sent to me soon after your evaluation at the hospital," Olivier continued, staring at her with that sharp, familiar, intense gaze. "While I understand the severity of your situation, understand that I will not tolerate any slack from you from here on. I must say, taking you on up here, I didn't expect to have to deal with someone such as you."

"My apologies, sir," Karla replied, biting her tongue from other scathing remarks she could deliver. Oh, the major general would have her head if she knew what was going on in her mind right now.

"I didn't permit you to speak." Olivier's tone was severe. She meant business right now, and Karla knew it. "Despite your brief imprisonment in Drachma, I trust you have learned at least even a small amount of vital information. I want to hear it. Now."

The young alchemist swallowed nervously. The most information she had heard she had gotten from the overseer at the prison, and he had used it to taunt her into submission. She had doubted he would have even given it to her if he wasn't completely sure he was going to kill her, and that doubt was still with her today. "I learned that they do not care about the Non-Aggression Pact signed between the countries, and their intent is to come in and reclaim as much as they can. They also claim they know how to destroy us, and that if they kill you directly, they'll be able to kill the rest of us because they think we don't know how to operate without your direction."

The major general let out a scathing sound of skepticism. "They underestimate us. You all are trained to be able to continue on without me. Already they've shown a fatal flaw in their plans... how typical of them. What else?"

The next piece of information Karla had learned was one that was enough to infuriate her. "They see Virnikov as not only theirs, but as their easiest way into the country since the military leaves it unguarded. They say that the civilian Defense Force there is an annoyance, but one they can neutralize easily. They're also searching for the Red Blizzard Chernikov there in an attempt to recruit him, but I do not think they've realized he isn't there."

"He isn't there because we gave him back to them," Olivier spat. "We sent him back years ago. Of course, _you'd _remember that, wouldn't you, alchemist?" Karla remained silent, staring her down bravely even though she was seething inside. "Why do they want him, and why are they convinced he's in Virnikov?"

"Apparently nobody in Drachma knows where he is, sir," the alchemist replied. "I believe they've lost track of him since he was deported back to them, and they think he fled back to Virnikov. As to why they want him, I was told he was once one of their best assassins, and they were focused on recruiting him based on that. They would give him life on parole if he sided with them and succeeded in killing you."

"That is nothing we can't handle." Olivier clasped her hands in front of her and looked up at Karla. "The Virnikov issue is one that can be taken care of easily. I understand the citizens do not look upon us kindly, as they think we've ignored them, and I must admit that we have failed in that aspect in the past. However, Drachma's infiltration is one that I cannot ignore, and therefore I have decided that you and Captain Buccaneer will take a small force to protect it. You will leave in three days." She paused, glancing back down at the paperwork before her. "There is one other issue I wish to address." She looked from the paperwork to Karla's belly, then up to Karla's eyes. "If I find you needlessly endangering yourself, you will be removed from active duty and placed on strict maternity leave. Now, get out of my sight."

Karla's eyes widened slightly, but she saluted and departed. As she was in the hallway again, the paranoid feeling from earlier overtook her once more, and she dashed back to the barracks, fleeing from a completely invisible – possibly even nonexistent – enemy. Once she had reached her destination, she slammed the door behind her, collapsing to the floor in a sudden bout of exhaustion. She hadn't even been back for an hour, and already she was leaving again. Plus, Olivier knew what lay within her... the one thing she had hoped desperately she wouldn't find out. If she knew, that meant Buccaneer knew as well...

Almost unconsciously, she pulled her dagger from its sheath on her belt. "You're causing me more trouble than you're worth, little parasite," she murmured, shifting the blade's position in her hand. "I don't even want you... I curse your existence." She pointed her knife straight at her own abdomen, at the exact place she knew the creature was growing within her. Raising it over her head, she added in a whisper, "This is where you die."

_Don't do it,_ a little voice in her mind suddenly sounded. _Whatever you think you're about to do, don't you dare. It's not its fault it was conceived the way it was. It deserves a chance at life._

But why? Why did it deserve life? It was nothing but something feeding off her, a being she never desired, a living reminder of what she had endured...

_It can be so much more than that._

The knife dropped from her hand to clatter to the floor.


	19. Chapter 18: A Memory from the Past

_**A/N: Two chapters in the same month?! It's a miracle! No, but seriously. I will hopefully be able to keep up posting on a semi-regular basis, which means no more month-long hiatuses! Hooray! I hope you enjoy this latest chapter!**_

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><p>Chapter 18: A Memory from the Past<p>

The three days passed swiftly, like a spirit passing from its body to the afterlife. Karla had been preoccupied with everything and nothing all at once; more than once she'd caught herself remaining still, her mind concentrated on what lay within, trying to sense any evidence that it was still living. Since nothing bad had ever happened, however, that lead her to believe that it still was, and she'd made a promise to that little voice inside her that she wouldn't do anything to cause it to die. She had no idea what had made that little part of herself come about; she'd never felt anything like it before, and now was confused as to why she did.

However, there was little time to really think on it, for today was the day she was to leave for Virnikov with Buccaneer. They had come to an agreement last night: as well as go there for their assigned mission, they would also take some time to visit Karla's mother, and explain what all had happened. Karla was dreading her reaction; Liesel had always been strongly against her tenure in the military, and she knew that the woman would likely use what had happened in Drachma against her, not out of purposeful harm, but as a way of stating that this was why she'd never wanted Karla in the business in the first place.

It was only two hours after they'd woken that Karla found herself on the train from North City, headed as swiftly as it could go towards the small town that she called home. The captain sat across from her, his eyes locked on her as she tried to avoid them. Those intense eyes of his... she could never escape their gaze, could she? He had a certain way of prying into her, of letting her know just exactly when he wanted to know something, and the tendency was one that annoyed her deeply, for he just wouldn't leave her alone until she ended up telling him what he wanted to know. _And people say women are impossible,_ she thought fiercely. _Those who think that have clearly never met this idiot._

After a few minutes of him continuing to stare at her, she sighed and looked over at him. "What do you want?" she asked, exasperated.

"Why didn' ya tell me?"

Those words served to do nothing but cause guilt to strike through her heart. _Idiot. What is it to you? You're not the one that stuck this inside me..._ Yet she couldn't help but feel that she _should_ have told him, should have as soon as she'd found out and returned. He shouldn't have had to find out the way he had... now he was probably enraged at her, enraged and ashamed and distrusting of her now.

"I didn't want you to know."

Whether her reply had stung him or not, she had no idea, for if it had he certainly didn't show it. Then again, he was stoic, just as stoic as she was. Karla knew it; Buccaneer hated showing his true emotions almost as much as she hated showing her own. It was a common trait of those who lived up here... if you showed them, you were weak, and weakness was vulnerability, and vulnerability was a most certain path to death, or betrayal, or whatever unfortunate fate was doomed to befall you.

"Ya don' have t'do everythin' alone, Kal."

Oh yes, she knew that. She knew that well, time after time he'd told her, and yet she could never bring herself to fully believe him. All her life up to now, she'd relied on no one but herself, so why should that change now? She _hated _having to depend on other people. Other people were not as dependable as herself; it was part of the reason she had a tendency to shut everyone out. It was much easier to deal with pain she caused to herself, after all. At least she knew just how deeply she could cut before everything was over. Others... didn't have as much of an idea as they thought.

As they drew closer and closer to Virnikov, Karla felt an anxiousness creeping over her. In seeing and talking with her mother, she would have to admit that it had all happened, and she'd been trying so hard to convince herself that it _hadn't,_ no matter how her body bore the physical evidence that it had; it was a dream, damn it. She would never be so weak as to allow that to happen, _but yet it had,_ and she still couldn't bring herself to face that fact. Damn it, she didn't _want_ to. It had been Buccaneer's idea to tell her mother anyway, not hers...

_Damn him. Why can't he just keep his damn mouth shut...?_

The rest of the train ride passed on without event. When they arrived in Virnikov and Karla, Buccaneer, and their force of soldiers dismounted the train, she directed them to introduce themselves to the citizens and then take their stations around the town. As the soldiers saluted and dispersed, Buccaneer looked down at her. "Ready t'do this?" he asked.

"Not in the slightest," she answered. Her heart was positively racing now; she was so close to her mother's house, her mother's disapproval, and her mother's disappointment. She really did not want to face the wrath of Liesel Chernikova...

The two of them began traversing through the small town, Karla leading since she knew the captain had not really been around here before. It didn't look as if much had changed since she had been here last; the citizens looked content with their lives as they continued living them, and the alchemist saw several buildings that were in the process of being repaired and rebuilt. _There must have been a lull from Drachma,_ she thought. _Oh, lord... If only they knew what I know..._Well, they were sure to know soon, since she knew she was going to end up telling her mother if the conversation veered that direction. Then again, she knew she was bound to tell her anyway; unlike seemingly many in the military, she actually cared about her hometown, for without it, she had nowhere to go home to.

"Small place," the captain remarked as they walked. "Ya never told me _this_ was the state of it."

"Must have slipped my mind," Karla replied, a bit preoccupied with looking around, taking in the surroundings. Somehow, Virnikov must really have come to a state of relative peace. Then again, it _had_ been a year since she'd last shown up here...

It wasn't long before they arrived at the familiar house, and Karla stood outside of it, staring at it for a moment. Maybe she'd been lucky and her mother wasn't home... though as she approached the door, she could definitely hear footsteps inside, which meant her luck, once again, had run completely dry. Buccaneer stood behind her as she knocked, a hand on her shoulder for support. She wanted to shrug it off – damn it, she wasn't some weak-minded, distraught, broken coward; she didn't need any support – but somehow, she couldn't. Perhaps it was because she secretly didn't want to...

...or perhaps it was because the door had opened as soon as she'd knocked, revealing the pale blonde Liesel, her green eyes wide in what Karla was sure was surprise. Or so she thought, because Liesel's gaze went from her to the man behind her, and her expression changed to one of absolute shock.

"You!" she exclaimed, raising a hand to point at Buccaneer. "You bastard... What the hell made you think you could come back here? I never thought I would see you again... in fact I _hoped_ I wouldn't!"

Karla's own eyes widened – what the hell had happened to her? Did these two have a history she didn't know about? She glanced back at Buccaneer, who looked at her with the same confusion she felt. She was suddenly being ushered into the house by Liesel, who had grabbed her wrist and pulled her in shortly before pulling out a pistol and pointing it straight at Buccaneer's face.

"Get out of here," she hissed angrily. "I don't care what you're here for, I don't care if your superior ordered you to start kissing my _ass,_ don't you _dare_ come near this house! I swear, if you do..." A growl rose from her throat, and she cocked her gun. Karla knew by that gesture that it was loaded, and she moved forward to take it, but Liesel threw out her other arm to stop her. "If you dare to even _think_ about stepping anywhere _near_ my house, you'll find yourself riddled with bullets before you can even blink. I don't care where you go while you're in Virnikov, but it will not be here. Now, _leave."_

Buccaneer made no inclination to move, instead looking over at Karla over Liesel's shoulder. _I'll meet you later,_ she mouthed back at him, and he made the slightest nod before Liesel slammed the door in his face.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Liesel demanded, now rounding on Karla. "Bringing _him_ here with you?"

"It wasn't my choice to bring him," the alchemist replied, crossing her arms over her chest. While she'd been expecting an angry lecture, she hadn't imagined it would be about this. "He was assigned to come with me. I can't change that."

Her mother sighed, shaking her head. "Those damned military bastards," she muttered. "They think they can do whatever they want just because they're in a position of power... That isn't what I wanted for you, and it wasn't what your father would have wanted, either."

"I don't think he would have cared what I did as long as I was making a name for myself," Karla countered, her eyes narrowing. "You might as well thank those military bastards as well, for it's my fault they're here. I've learned quite a bit of information over the past year that you might find valuable. However..." She stepped away from her, going to sit on the couch due to a sudden feeling of sapped energy. "I feel you need to update me first. What has gone on here since the last time I was here?"

Liesel followed her, sitting down in an armchair that faced her. "Well, soon after you left, Drachma attacked again," she began. "After we fought them off, it was only a short time before they attacked again. They enjoy showing up and terrorizing us; you know that. Eventually, however... they just stopped. No inclination as to why. That was about three months ago, and they haven't shown up since."

Karla's heart dropped. Three months ago... She'd been captured and detained by Drachma three months ago. Had they seriously not attacked at all while they'd held her up in there? But yet... knowing what she knew now, how they planned to infiltrate the north through Virnikov to attempt to take down Briggs...

_Oh lord, they held off for a reason._

She was about to speak before she noticed her mother staring at her, inspecting her with a knowing look on her face. It was as if she was suspecting something, only waiting for a confirmation to know if it was true or not... "What?" she asked, leaving off her original statement for a moment.

"You're pregnant, aren't you?"

Karla's eyes widened. What, was the entire country going to know now? Had someone said something? "What? How in the -"

"Do you really think I wouldn't recognize the signs? I was once pregnant myself, you know. The way you walked over to the couch is one thing; you're starting to carry your body like it's bigger than it actually is. Besides, even if I hadn't noticed that, your belly gave it away. You're so thin it's easy to notice." Liesel paused, then her eyes narrowed. "Karla Ivanovna, you are nineteen years old. I never imagined you would have put yourself into such a situation this early. Whatever happened to that ideal you came up with, that goal you were so desperate to achieve? You realize you won't be able to do it now that you have a child on the way, right? Was this really what you put yourself into the military for?" Her voice had risen during her speech, but she stopped and sighed. "Whose child is it? It's not from that bastard you brought with you, is it? How far along are you?"

While Liesel's speech had already brought Karla's mood spiraling down – damn it, why had she allowed herself to even be in that situation, why hadn't she fought back? – her questions only served to send a freezing shudder down her spine, her blood running cold in her veins. Somehow, she knew the questions had been coming, yet even the mere mention of anything that had happened in Drachma was enough to send her paranoia sparking, send her fear flying through her once more. _I almost wish it was Buccaneer's... just so I wouldn't have to deal with this..._

"It's not his," she finally answered, swallowing past the anxious lump in her throat. "I'm three months. It's..." Oh lord, she could not do this. She absolutely could not admit who had done this to her, couldn't breathe a word about what had happened, because that meant that it _had_ happened and she didn't want anyone else to know it had, not even herself – "It's someone in Drachma's."

"Someone in-!" Liesel sputtered in indignation. _"What the hell were you doing in Drachma?"_

The tears stung hot in her eyes, though she did her best to keep them from falling. "I was... I was ordered to Drachma." The words came out automatically now, as if someone else was speaking in place of her; somehow the voice didn't feel anything like her own. "I was ordered to Drachma to serve as a spy for Amestris, since I look the most Drachman out of everyone there. I wasn't supposed to be captured, but I was, and I spent three months locked in prison. The soldier I brought with me? I only survived because of him. He came to Drachma himself, broke me out."

Liesel looked horrified. Karla guessed she could figure out what had happened in said prison without giving her the complete details, and from the way her mother's fists clenched in her lap, the alchemist figured that she had. "What kind of idiot did they put as your commanding officer?" she shouted angrily, fire in her eyes. "What sort of abomination sends one of their own into the enemy's territory, knowing something like that could happen? They're damn lucky you escaped, because if you hadn't, they would be hearing from me! Hell, I have half a mind to deliver my thoughts to them right now! This is _exactly_ why I didn't want you going into the military; I knew something like this would happen!"

The alchemist sighed, taking her hair down and running her fingers through it, a habit she often succumbed in when she was stressed. The last thing she wanted or needed right now was North Headquarters receiving an angry phone call from her mother of all people. Liesel's words about Olivier also aggravated her; god damn it, the major general wasn't an idiot! She was the farthest thing from one!

"What else do you have to tell me?" asked Liesel after a moment. Clearly she'd taken the time to calm herself down. "The information you have... you got it straight from the Drachmans, didn't you?"

Her daughter nodded. "Most of it I discovered while in prison. Drachma's forces aren't aiming straight for Briggs. They see Virnikov as a weak point, since there's hardly any military protection here. They want to infiltrate Amestris using Virnikov as their entrance. Of course, they plan to burn it down afterward... and they're looking for Father."

"What? Vanya?"

"Yes. They said they were after him, and if they found him here, they were going to use him as a weapon against Amestris, coaxing him into being on their side with parole instead of a death sentence."

Liesel let out a sigh, which then turned into a growl. "What in the hell are they getting at?" she demanded. "Why do they want to take over Amestris so badly? And why do they want to use _him_ to do it?"

Karla merely shrugged. She was tired of answering questions and talking in general; right now she felt like doing nothing more than going to her room and falling asleep. It was the middle of the day, why was she so tired all of a sudden? Yet there was one more question on her mind: "Will you just let him in the house? He's with me. You don't have to be afraid of him. He's not going to do anything; besides, I'm of higher rank than he is. He has to answer to me, as do all the other soldiers that were sent with me."

Her mother sighed again, her head resting on the back of her hand. "Karla..."

"Mother. I refuse to relent on this. If you won't let him, I'm breaking down the window in my bedroom and letting him in that way. I don't even know why you're so adamantly against him _being_ here."

There was a moment of silence from both women. The alchemist set her eyes on her mother, her gaze conveying silent authority. In this instance, she had more sway than her mother did; after all, she was military. Liesel was not. She hated having to pull this card, but she felt she had to, otherwise Buccaneer would most likely end up sleeping outside.

"Fine," the older woman finally replied. "Let him in. Just know that I'm not happy about it. As for why I hate him... I'll tell you another day. You don't need to hear it just now."

"Thank you." Karla pulled herself onto her feet and went to the front door, opening it. She was about to call for Buccaneer when she looked over to find him next to the door, his back against the house, arms crossed. "Were you waiting there the entire time?"

"O'course I was," he replied, straightening up. "Heard everythin'. Figured ya'd be able t'convince her."

Karla sighed, shaking her head. "Daitaro... You are impossible. Get in here. You're sleeping in my room at night. I am sleeping in there now." She went back into the house with the massive man following. "Mother," she said, looking over at the other woman, "Captain Daitaro Buccaneer. Captain, this is my mother, Liesel Chernikova."

Buccaneer merely nodded, but that was more than Liesel had done; she hadn't even acknowledged his presence. The alchemist sighed once more as she went off to her bedroom now. She didn't have time for this... Her mother was acting like a two-year-old, and it was more than a little irritating. Once she was in her bedroom, she laid out on her bed, and right after this, she heard the front door slam. The woman had probably stalked out, sulking over the fact that the captain was here instead of somewhere else. For the first time in her life, Karla found herself wishing she could have brought Miles along instead of him. Liesel would probably have reacted better to the major; then again, he was even more stoic than Buccaneer was, so there really was no way to tell.

"_Why do I keep ending up in trouble?"_ she muttered to herself in Drachman before turning over and falling promptly asleep.

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><p>A few days had passed, and Liesel still had not elaborated on why she hated Buccaneer so much. Every time Karla would ask, she would change the subject, or worse, shrug the question off completely. Karla found this even more irritating than the temper tantrum she had thrown over it on the first day. She was so used to her mother answering her questions straightforwardly that it caught her off guard that she wouldn't answer this one. The reason couldn't be as bad as she was saying it was... She and Buccaneer were around the same age; it was probably something stupid like love lost in the past that she couldn't get over. Absolutely ridiculous.<p>

It was late now, around the middle of the night, when Karla was awoken to the bedroom door creaking open. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, noticing the large shadow entering. "Daitaro," she said, yawning, "is that you?"

"'Course it is," the voice replied, walking over and resting on the floor beside the bed, his back against it. "She's still awake, in case ya wanted t'talk t'her for somethin'."

"Where did you go?"

"Phone call. General wanted me f'r somethin'. Can't tell ya what it is, though. She said it'd stress ya out too much and ya'd do somethin' stupid."

The alchemist groaned, running her fingers through her hair. What was with everyone thinking she was so weak and easily stressed? She'd spent two years in the military already; those three months in Drachma (horrifying, disturbed, destructive Drachma) were nothing compared to that! She sighed, glancing over in Buccaneer's direction. The evenness of his breathing was enough to tell her that he'd fallen asleep – how could someone end up sleeping on the floor like that? Wasn't it uncomfortable? – and she carefully slid out of bed, quietly as to not disturb him. Leaving the room, she saw that the light in the kitchen was on; he was right: her mother was still awake. What the hell could she be doing this late at night?

When she entered the kitchen, the first thing she saw was a bottle of alcohol, half-empty on the counter. So _that_ was what her mother was doing... drinking herself into a stupor, most likely. She raised her head and looked into the living room, and sure enough, there was Liesel, huddled over a shot glass, staring down into it with glazed eyes. Karla raised an eyebrow. In all her years alive, she never knew her mother had a drinking habit...

As Karla walked into the living room and sat on the couch next to her, Liesel raised her head. "Oh," she said, setting the glass down on the coffee table. "Karla. What are you doing awake?"

"Daitaro woke me up, and I was finished sleeping anyway. What are _you_ doing drinking? Is it a regular habit nowadays?"

Liesel sighed. "I don't drink often, Karla, you know that. This is the first night I've even had a sip since... since your father left."

"Unless the size of your sips is half the bottle, I'm pretty sure you're well on your way into a stupor," Karla said flatly, looking over at her. Liesel's shoulders shook in quiet laughter.

"You are probably right," she said, picking up the glass and draining it. "Karla... it was five years ago. You can't tell me you don't remember."

The alchemist didn't respond. She knew exactly what her mother was talking about... and of course she remembered. It was something she thought about more often than she probably should: her father's deportation. Back then, at age fourteen, she had wanted to destroy the military for what they'd done, for how they'd torn her family apart. Back then, it had felt like salt being rubbed in the wound; first they wouldn't protect Virnikov, then they had ripped her father away from her. Yet... now she was part of them. Now she was one of them, being sucked into the very same force she had despised for so long. She hadn't forgotten. She never would. She would never allow herself to forget.

"Why did you think I never wanted you in this line of work?" asked Liesel, her voice quiet. "I didn't want you turning just as heartless as the rest of them. I didn't want you to even face the possibility of having to do the exact same thing, and turning your back on a broken family just as easily as they turned theirs on us. It wasn't because of your skill with alchemy; in fact, I envy you for that, I just wish you'd picked a less dangerous style... but..." She sighed, resting her head against her hand. "Do you want to know why I hate your captain so much?"

Karla raised her head at that. Was her mother really about to tell her instead of brushing her off for once? "Of course I want to know."

There was a moment of silence from the both of them. Karla's heart raced, anxious for the answer. Why wasn't she talking? Had she fallen asleep? Had she suddenly forgotten?

"I've seen your captain before," her mother finally answered. "I thought you would have remembered, but it's clear to me that you don't. The last time he was here, it was five years ago. He brought a squad with him. He's the one that signed the paper to deport your father. He's the one who threw him out of Amestris!"


	20. Chapter 19: A Runaway Captain

_**A/N: Yes, another chapter! Hooray! This one is a bit shorter than the others, and for that I apologize. Then again, I think it shakes it up a bit to have a shorter chapter every so often. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one; it was a rather difficult one to write simply because of what happens within. **_

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><p>Chapter 19: A Runaway Captain<p>

As soon as the words left Liesel's mouth, Karla's heart dropped straight to her stomach. Her eyes widened. _What?!_ _That can't be! That's impossible!_ How could the man who had shown her so much caring, as much caring as a Briggs soldier could allow himself to show, who had broken her out of Drachman prison and had saved her life... how could _he_ be the one who had torn her father away from her? It wasn't possible...

Yet in her mind's eye, she could see the scene from so long ago play out once more, and she began trembling as she relived it. The pure muscles that had stormed into her house... the harsh voice that had read his sentence... the flash of blue eyes that had stared down at her as she glared up at them... She'd always known she'd recognized them... _Oh, God. I should have remembered. I should have known. Why didn't I realize...? _

_Why didn't he tell me?!_

"Are you sure?" she heard herself ask, her voice hollow and disbelieving. "It couldn't be him..."

The sound of a glass smashing against a wall tore her out of her reverie, and she looked over to find Liesel on her feet, with shards of glass littering the floor by the opposite wall. "I never forget the faces of those who've harmed me or my family," she growled, her eyes narrowed and furious. "That's why I hate him. That's why I despise him, him and the entirety of the military. They're all bastards who don't give a shit about anything except their fucking paychecks and their _positions_ and... and..." She let out a frustrated, angry yell, turning away and stumbling back to the kitchen. Karla was shocked, both by what she'd been told and the general conduct of her mother just now. She never used that sort of language, had never smashed a glass against the wall... yet she was so intoxicated, so upset, so... distraught that Karla couldn't do much more than sit there, in complete utter shock. Liesel's words stung, but even that couldn't ebb the anger that was burning away inside her, the anger at herself, the anger at Buccaneer. Right now, all she wanted to do was punch the man in the face, several times.

She got off the couch as well; damn it, she didn't want to _deal_ with this right now, she should have just stayed in bed, even though she wasn't all that tired anymore. But, of course, her luck had to fall flat once again. She paused at the kitchen, watching Liesel drink straight from the bottle, then sighed. "Mother, you shouldn't do this to yourself. Stop drinking yourself to death and go to bed. It's the middle of the night."

Liesel sighed, setting the bottle down onto the counter. "You're right," she said, looking down at the floor. "You're right, you're right, you're right. Go... go to bed, Karla. I'll... I'll go and do the same."

Karla turned and went to her room, leaving Liesel in the kitchen alone. She closed the door behind her, and only when she was sitting on the bed did she finally look down at where Buccaneer was sleeping. "You idiot," she muttered, sighing once more. "I am so goddamn angry with you... yet I can't bring myself to wake you up and scream my lungs out at you. Damn you and your goddamn effect on me." She compromised with herself by picking up a small pillow on the bed and throwing it at him, though as she expected, he didn't even twitch. She scowled, laying back on the bed, and soon enough, she was asleep again.

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><p>When she woke, the house was silent. Karla pushed herself up in bed to notice her room was empty; Buccaneer must have gone somewhere. <em>Damn him,<em> she thought, the anger from last night boiling within her once more. It didn't feel like her mother was home either... she must have gone to plan some sort of event or something with the other members of the Defense Force. She got out of bed, simultaneous exhaustion and irritation clear on her face. She had a bone to pick today, and if she had her way, the captain was not going to escape unscathed.

Leaving the room, she saw Daitaro in the living room, seemingly waiting for her to wake up and come out to see him. She sat on the couch next to him and looked over at him. "What are you waiting for?" she asked, and she heard a shred of venom in her voice.

The man looked down at her, those eyes boring into her once more. "You," he replied after a moment. "Y'r mom's gone. Went out somewhere. Didn' tell me anythin'."

"And rightfully she shouldn't," Karla countered, her arms crossing over her chest. "Whatever she does is her business, not ours. We're here only long enough to provide military support until the major general calls us back. We can't interfere with whatever the Defense Force is doing."

"Wasn' implyin' we should," answered Buccaneer, an eyebrow raising but his face otherwise remaining stoic. "What's got ya all fired up? Y're never this grumpy in the mornin'. Only abou' half."

If looks could kill, then the glare Karla gave him in response would have slaughtered him twice over. "I am not in the mood for your bullshit right now." She stood and departed the house, still wearing the uniform she'd gone to bed in last night. She wanted nothing to do with him at this particular moment, even if the anger inside her wanted her to beat the everliving shit out of him.

She walked through the town, surveying the area, trying to keep her mind off of him. Nothing important would be accomplished by focusing on him all day, no matter how much he'd angered her. The soldiers they'd brought with them had been stationed at the edge of town, covering every open space Karla had discovered, and now she needed to go check up with them. She passed through the town, her footsteps deep in the recent snowfall, ignoring the stares of those around her. One would think that the citizens would have gotten used to her visits in uniform... then again, these were people that despised the military with everything they had. It would be foolish to expect them to automatically respect her just because she hailed from this place. Still, it aggravated her, how they stared at her with nothing short of utter contempt.

She reached the edge of town, going to the nearest soldier she saw. "Major!" he exclaimed, instantly snapping to a salute.

Karla returned the salute, then said, "Report. What have you seen?"

"Nothing, sir," the soldier replied. "No evidence of approaching Drachman forces... no evidence of anything at all."

The alchemist turned and stared out at the horizon in contemplation. Perhaps Drachma knew they were here? No, even if they did, they would still come attacking. They weren't afraid of the Amestrian forces any more than the Amestrians were afraid of them. Then... where were they? It had been far too long since their last attack, which was still a high source of suspicion.

"Permission to speak, sir!" the soldier suddenly said, interrupting her thoughts. When she glanced back over at him and nodded, he asked, "With all due respect, sir, are you sure you should be out here? After all, you're not in the best condition to..."

He drifted off into silence as Karla turned toward him, fire in her eyes. "If you are insinuating that I am physically unable to defend this town, you would be more wrong than you've ever been in your life, soldier," she growled, crossing her arms over her chest. "Do not mention my condition to me again, understood? I don't want to hear of it!"

"Yes, sir!" her underling replied.

"Good. Back to your position. When the sun has set, retire in place of the night guard."

The two saluted, and Karla walked away, her fury burning within her. The soldier's statement had done nothing to improve her mood; in fact, it had made it worse, and she stalked over to a nearby tree and plunged her blade into the trunk with a frustrated yell. Yanking it back out, she sheathed it in her belt, going back to her mother's house. She didn't know where Liesel was, and quite frankly, right now, she didn't care. It would be better for everyone if no one was there; she had absolutely no desire to associate herself with anyone right now.

Of course, she was never lucky that way.

When she returned to the house, slamming the door behind her, she found the captain in the kitchen having himself a drink. Of course he was. Usually, Karla wouldn't have minded, but now... Now was the wrong time for him to even contemplate doing that.

She stood in the doorway to the kitchen, her arms crossed, glaring at him. He chose that opportunity to raise his head and look at her, setting his drink down on the counter. "Back already?" he asked. "Didn' realize y'r job was that short."

"Captain," she said tersely, just barely keeping her anger in check. That wouldn't last long, however, if he didn't tell her exactly what she wanted to hear. "I have something to speak with you about."

"Fire away," he replied, clearly having no idea what was coming.

She took a breath before she spoke, before she let loose and screamed whatever she felt like at him. "There was an event here, five years ago. You might have heard about it." She took a step toward him, though he didn't make any move to retreat. "In this very house, a small family lived. A mother, a father, and their daughter. They were happy, they were content. They couldn't be ruined, could they? Of course not. Not until the military stepped in." Her eyes narrowed at him, and only that made him take a step back, back toward the wall.

"Kal, what're ya –?"

"I'm not finished," she hissed, advancing toward him even while he continued to back away from her. Her rage was quickly reaching its boiling point now; it wouldn't be long before she let it all fly free. "You see, while the father wanted everything in the world for them, he was an illegal here. He'd fled... from Drachma. Too poor to go get the work done to become a legal citizen, he did what he could, and stayed out of the radar. At least, he thought he had. Somehow, the military found out he was here. They showed up at the house, with a notice calling for his deportation. He fought, begging them to let his wife and child remain in Amestris, begging them to let him remain in Amestris." Her hand gravitated toward her knife on her belt. "They listened to his pleas long enough to let his family stay, since they were citizens already. However... with him, they had no heart. No heart whatsoever. He even asked for an extension, you know?" The knife was unsheathed, her hand dropping to her side. The captain was backed up fully against the wall now, and if she didn't know better, she swore she'd seen fear flicker briefly in his eyes. "But they wouldn't listen. They signed the paper, took him away, never to be seen by his family again. And you know who was in charge of the whole thing? You know who had the gall to come in here and sign the paper, the order to take him away, to rip his family apart? _Do you?!"_ Her last sentence was screamed, and she whipped the dagger up to point it straight at him. She was seeing red now; there was nothing in the world that could calm her down when she was this furious.

"Karla, calm down! I dunno who it was, and I don' see what the hell that's got t'do with me!"

"Don't give me that _bullshit!"_ she shouted, throwing the dagger at him. It lodged into the wall, catching him by the sleeve of his shirt. "It was _you!_ The one who decided all of it was _you, _you bastard!" She grabbed a carving knife off the counter and threw it at him, and it landed opposite hers, going through his other sleeve and sticking into the wall.

"_Karla!_ Have ya gone _insane?! Cut it out!"_ He was about to pull himself forward to dislodge himself from the wall, but Karla pointed yet another knife at him.

"Don't you even _think _about moving," she snarled, "or this one is going straight into your _throat!_ I wouldn't even be as angry at you about this if you'd just _told_ me! Why the _fuck_ didn't you do that? Why have you been keeping it a secret from me?!"

"_Put down the goddamn knife!"_ he bellowed, finally losing his temper. "I don' remember anythin' y're tellin' me! Why'd ya wait so goddamn long t' blow up at me about it, then, if it was me?"

"I've always recognized your eyes," she growled. "I'd just never realized it until my mother told me... I understand now why she _hates _you! You think you can just rip my family to pieces and then come after me years later... pretending you don't know a damn thing... you complete _asshole!"_ She turned and threw the knife she was holding into the sink, then stormed over to him and yanked the other blades out of the wall.

"I _despise_ you," she spat, throwing the carving knife into the sink and sheathing her dagger. "Get the fuck out of here. I don't care where you go, but I never want to see your goddamn face again."

Buccaneer remained where he was, fixing her with one of his stares again. Karla glared right back, her chest heaving from the effort of her fury. For a moment, she thought she would have to drag him out of her house herself, but then he stormed past her, his heavy footsteps sounding throughout the house followed by the front door slamming so hard the house practically shook with the force.

A severe bout of nausea suddenly overcame Karla, and she dashed to the bathroom, reaching it just in time to empty her stomach completely of all its contents. Once she was through, she curled up on the floor, her rage suddenly evaporating and being replaced with sorrow: sorrow over the memories of her father being taken away, sorrow over her life ever since then, and what possibly hurt the most: remorse over what she'd just done. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she hugged her knees to her chest as best she could, laying her head down on top of them.

_God damn it... I'm such an idiot... _

She had to find Buccaneer and apologize. She couldn't bear having him not around... why had she told him to leave? Because she'd let her temper get the better of her once goddamn again, and it had finally caused her to do something she regretted.

_I deserve this. I deserve every bit of fucking pain I feel. I'm nothing but a heartless imbecile._


End file.
